Dark Choices
by Zemiah
Summary: Xetil Fades professes to be the very embodiment of knighthood and chivalry but, when a certain mission to the Lighthalzen Bio Labs goes horrifyingly wrong, can he put aside his pride for the sake of peace?
1. Prologue

_**Title: **_**Dark Choices**

_**Author: **__**Zemiah Dyterra**_

_**Rating: **__**Teen**_

_**Genre: **__**Action/Adventure, Romance**_

_**Description:**_

_Xetil Fades professes to be the very embodiment of knighthood and chivalry but, when a certain mission to the Lighthalzen Bio Labs goes horrifyingly wrong, can he put aside his pride for the sake of peace?_

_**Prologue**_

_Lighthalzen Bio Labs, Level 3_

Professor I. Lykens was frantic. The sound of clashing swords behind his back was far too close for comfort, and he knew well enough to hypothesize that one of those clashing blades desired to bite his neck. He knew he really ought to be making for an emergency exit, but he could not resist returning to the lowest levels of the lab to oversee the transfer of his finest specimen yet. It was dangerous, he knew, but this project of his was worth his _life_.

"Hold him back! We just need a bit more time!"

There was a shout of pain, followed shortly by the sound of a body thudding to the ground.

"_Lykens_!"

Lykens winced at the voice, for it was lined with a fury of unbelievable intensity. It was the voice of the man who was after him; the voice of his soon-to-be killer.

"Get lost, boy!" Lykens shouted over his shoulder even as he continued to rush down the lab's corridors. "Go back!"

"_Surrender to your grave!_" was the spiteful reply. "_I'd cut down every last obstacle I face!_"

Another metallic clash resounded off the lab walls, and there came another cry of agony.

"Foolish boy!" Lykens roared. "Do you not understand what I am trying to give young Sumari? Do you not understand what a favour I'm doing her?"

He rounded a corner—and stumbled over the corpse of a dead scientist. He scrambled quickly to his feet and began to run again—and then realized the entire corridor was filled with corpses—the corpses of scientists and soldiers alike. And amidst the corpses was that of Seyren, the lord knight in charge of the bio lab's Acquisition department. Formerly, at least.

Lykens gasped at the sight of the corpse. Even Seyren had been defeated. So shocking was the discovery that Lykens failed to even realize and marvel at the fact that the corridor walls were surprisingly clean of blood.

"_Lykens!_"

Lykens snapped out of his daze and continued down the corridors hurriedly.

"Go back, boy!" Lykens shouted once more, almost pleadingly. "I've come so close to my dream! Sumari shall be the ultimate being! My ultimate creation! She will be _perfect_! I'm doing her a favour!"

"_You made her a _monster_! You call _that_ a favour?_"

"Come to your senses!" Lykens retorted. "I made her _perfect_!"

"_You ruined her life! She never wanted any of this; she just wants to live her life!_"

"And I'm giving her a better life to live!" Lykens shrieked. He rounded one last corner. "Get out of here!"

He tapped the entrance console of the door closest to him, and as he stepped into the lab, his jaw dropped in horror. The containment tube which once held his specimen yet had been all but shattered, and the corpses of the laboratory personnel who had been charged with the transfer of his specimen lay dead, their limp bodies scattered gruesomely across the lab floor.

Lykens shook his head as he took in the sight. He had not expected this. The intruder had been here. And he had taken his specimen!

"… It's quite the scene, isn't it?"

Lykens let out of whimper of terror and spun about. He slipped on the wet floor, however, and landed flat on his back. Groaning with pain, Lykens propped himself up on his elbows and looked up at the intruder: a young knight donned in flowing, grey-blue battle garbs. In his arms was a young, unconscious naked girl, whose torso and arms he had wrapped carefully with his cape. Lykens could not bring himself to look at the intruder's face, though. He dared not.

"You… you did this?" Lykens stuttered, gesturing shakily at the corpses around the lab. Lykens could just make out the boy turning his head to take in the bloodied walls and corpses at the edge of his field of vision, for he still feared to meet the boy's eye.

"… Do not insult me," the boy said coldly. "Such animalistic carnage… You think me barbaric enough to kill in such gruesome manners?"

"But who else…?"

The boy remained silent for a long moment, and then set Lykens' specimen down on the ground, against a wall.

"On your feet, cur," the boy said spitefully.

Lykens gulped. What now?

"On your feet!" the boy snarled.

Lykens flinched, and then slowly got to his feet.

"Look around," the boy ordered. "Look around, and tell me… who do you think did this?"

Lykens looked around as ordered, and upon turning back to the boy, he shook his head fearfully and said, "I… don't know."

"Yet you name yourself intelligent… Raise your head and look me in the eye. Surely, you have at least dignity enough left to do that."

Fear gripped Lykens even tighter. He tried to take a step back, but froze as the boy's sword—a sleek, bluish blade, seemingly untouched by blood—came into view. The cold, unnaturally dry blade touched Lykens' chin and pushed it up, until Lykens was finally looking at the intruder right in the eye. The intensity of the boy's gaze was horrifying, and the fresh sword wound which ran from the inner end of the boy's right eyebrow to his left cheek seemed only to amplify that intensity.

"Let me tell you," he said quietly. "_You_ did this."

Lykens shook his head frantically.

"I did not!"

The tip of the sword dug slightly into the scientist's throat, and he gagged.

"You made Rikurei a monster—the monster which did all this. So you did this," the boy snarled. "_You're_ the animal."

"I…"

"Now do you understand?" the boy cut him off. "You never gave her a perfect life. You just gave her a killer's life. You made her perfect, yes. You made her the perfect _killer_."

"I swear… I…" Lykens shook his head forcefully in denial, but he knew it was no use. His fate had been sealed by the boy's sword. The fatality just had not reached his neck.

Yet.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Whoa, back to writing, at last… After writing this, I kinda realized why I liked writing last time. This is just the prologue, so naturally, you might not know what's going on—but don't fret! It'll all be explained in future.

Anyway, this is just the beginning, so if you enjoyed it, please read and review. The more you do, the more I update, the faster I update, and the more I reply. Like, yeah, there's not much to reply to if there are no reviews, right?

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

_Two years later…_

In the late afternoons, the sight of two young men battling it out in the town square was not too uncommon a scene. Every so often, young fighters eager to test out their strength would put their pride—and their weapons, at times—at stake in hopes of earning coin, pride, and, of course, bragging rights.

This afternoon was one such afternoon. What was special about it, though, was that this duel was far more heated and intense than most—and thus, much more interesting.

Xetil Fades watched keenly as the two duellists circled slowly, their weapons raised. To his experienced eye, it was quite obvious who had upper hand in this battle—and was likely going to win. But the other fighter, while obviously outclassed, was in no way lacking in strength and speed. He was clunky and simple in style, but he was quick to react, even if he does so a bit unceremoniously.

The first duellist was quite the unorthodox fighter; although he implemented common sword skills such as Bash and Magnum Break, he wielded two separate blades. His main weapon was a simple sword of the flamberge design, while his off-hand weapon was a sleek kodachi, a shorter variant of the more common katana.

The kodachi was wielded in a reverse grip, enabling the duellist to launch surprise attacks and fatal blows if the distance between him and his opponent was sufficiently close, while the flamberge was wielded like a rapier. This duellist was a fencer, to be sure, and specialized not in combat as a whole, but in combat against other sword users.

Xetil turned his attention to the second duellist, who, unlike the first, wielded a heavy bastard sword. It wasn't the classiest weapon, but neither was its owner the classiest fighter. This young man was huge, with firm arms and visible muscles, yet, odd as it might be, he was pretty nimble on his feet.

He wasn't as well-balanced as his fencing opponent, though, nor was he as precise and quick, but he was willing to use the most brutish methods to gain the upper hand, and his heavy swinging promised an instant win if it scores a direct hit.

His most recent victim had been the doorpost of the smithy's shop, much to the owner's dismay.

Overall, it was an interesting pair-up, but Xetil was sure the first duellist would be the one to end the duel. Even now, the other duellist was starting to tire out. The large man was obviously unused to fighting such nimble warriors.

It was only a matter of time…

The first duellist moved, almost too fast for the eye to see, but Xetil's eyes followed every movement sharply, observantly. The man started off with a series of jabs and stabs, each targeted at the larger man's face. The larger man managed to parry the attacks which came too close for comfort, but failed to realize what Xetil did the instant the first duellist had began his attack.

The rain of linear attacks was not meant to score a win; it was meant to disrupt. Being constantly attacked in such a manner, especially when one's face was the target, had a devastating effect on one's vision. Attempting the follow the movement of the blade would only serve to disorient oneself.

The larger duellist finally seemed to realize that, and shuffled his feet clumsily in an effort to gain some distance, but it was too late; his opponent leapt into the air, flamberge held high, and came down at him with a powerful, vertical stroke which the larger man barely deflected with his weapon.

But that too, was a feint to give way for the leaner duellist to pierce his offhand weapon into the ground with a mighty shout, "_Magnum Break!_"

Flames erupted from the ground and formed an ever-expanding ring about him. Catching the flames head-on in the chest, the larger man was thrown backwards violently, and landed in a crumpled heap just two metres from the fountain perimeter.

As the crowds cheered in appreciation of the show, Xetil felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see his childhood friend and comrade, Lune, smiling up at him. She was pretty enough, he supposed, with her flowing, chocolate brown hair, fair complexion and lithe body, but Xetil figured there were better girls out there. Besides, he thought _he_ was good-looking, too. Finding nice girls came pretty easy for him, in his opinion. And didn't girls always look for the perfect knight in shining armour…?

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Xetil smiled and addressed his friend, "Hey, Lune. What's up?"

"Oh, the usual," Lune replied with a shrug. Glancing past him, she asked, "Watching your favourite sport?"

Xetil laughed at her choice of words.

"You bet. How about you?"

"Ah, I uh… just came back from practice," she said, patting the quiver of arrows she wore across her back. Xetil noticed her bow was nowhere to be seen, but, knowing better than to ask her about it, he simply nodded.

"Okay, so… finding me was a coincidence, eh?"

Lune's smile grew wider. So she _knew_ he had intentionally avoided asking her about it. He pretended not to notice, however, and let her speak.

"Well, not quite," she said slowly. "Lord Kadres wants to see you."

_Blast,_ Xetil cursed mentally, _what is it about, this time?_

"What about? I… don't remember hurting anyone during my last practice session," Xetil muttered darkly.

Lune cocked her head to one side quizzically.

"You hurt someone in practice?"

"Well… I _did_ apologize to him, you know…?" Xetil said, smiling weakly. "Like… gracefully…? The way a knight should?"

"Ever the embodiment of knightly principles, huh?" Lune teased. "Anyway, no, that doesn't seem to be the case. He wants to see me, too."

"Oh, so you hurt someone during practice, too?" Xetil asked with a smirk.

"Ha, ha," Lune said sarcastically as she turned to lead the way towards the castle. "That is _so_ not funny."

"So what's this about?"

"I think we've got a mission," Lune replied with a shrug. "That's the only reason why he'd want to see us, anyway."

"Unless we hurt someone by accident…"

"I'm accurate with my weapons, unlike you, thanks."

Xetil rolled his eyes.

"Oh, excuse me, milady, but I happen to be a master swordsman and lancer," Xetil said proudly. "In case you haven't noticed, I've won two jousts and five duelling championships, and…"

"And all in the seven months you've been in the cavalry, I know," Lune finished for him with a knowing sigh. "Seriously, you've been bragging about that for ages, changing nothing but the numbers _each_ time you win another competition."

"Ah, so you admit then that I only win and don't lose?" Xetil asked cheekily.

"Yes, but only until you _do_ lose," Lune shot back. Sighing, she added softly, "I've done well the seven months _I've_ been in the archery troop, too…"

"Did you say something?"

"… No."

"Oh, okay," Xetil said with a shrug. "So… what makes you think it's a mission? He might just have wanted to see us to lecture us over no particular incident. It won't be the first time."

"Well, yeah, I guess, but…" Lune put a finger to her lip and sucked at it for a few moments thoughtfully. "Well, I heard there were two Yunoan guests at the castle today."

"Yunoans?" Xetil echoed. "Why? Does Yuno have a problem with Prontera and its workings again?"

Lune shook her head.

"No. I heard King Tristan had personally summoned them. I dunno why, though."

"Personally summoned them…?" Xetil frowned and scratched at his brow. "But why?"

"I have no idea," Lune snapped at him, irritated. "Weren't you listening? I guess we'll just have to wait until we get back to the castle to find out."

Sighing, Xetil shrugged. "Yeah… what choice do we have, huh?"

/

The air in the conference chamber was tensed. Even when it was silent, the air was tensed, and, if not for the fact that he could breathe easier, Lord Kadres would have dared say it was even more tensed than it was when someone was talking.

Along with the king and two other members of the Pronteran Authority, Kadres was currently in conference with two Yunoans, who looked like they could not possibly be any older than twenty years of age. Yet something about the way one of them held himself demanded respect and authority from even people of his status.

And worse still, not even the king dared deny him that. Even when the two Yunoans—a knight and a priestess, Kadres guessed, for they wore the standard Yunoan uniforms for their respective jobs, albeit with some colour scheme alterations—entered the room, they had neglected to take a bow to the king, and no one, much to Kadres' discomfort, had dared demand that they do.

After all, the king had been the one who had requested their assistance in a certain venture, though neither of them seemed very willing to have any part to play in it.

"So… you won't even consider it," Kadres said slowly for the fourth time.

"… No," the knight replied, shaking his head firmly. "We swore never to return to Lighthalzen. _I_ swore never to return there."

"Even if Rune Midgard's future is at stake?"

The knight looked Kadres in the eye, and for an instant, Kadres was tempted to look away, but he fought hard to maintain eye contact. Even though the Yunoan's right eye was hidden from view by his medium length hair, just his one visible eye was enough to have an entire congregation of respected politicians sought other sights out of discomfort.

"By that, Lord Kadres," the Yunoan said slowly. At least he did not refrain from excluding formal titles. "By that, I take it you mean the Pronteran government."

Kadres' lips dried, and he gulped nervously.

"Well…"

"What shall become of this leadership interests me not," the knight said coldly. "I will not return to Lighthalzen, and nor will my companion. We have suffered much in the past."

"So young yet so…" Kadres heard the Pronteran politician beside him murmur in wonder. He understood full well the old sage's lack of words to describe the two.

"So you will sit by and watch the chaos that might ensue?" Kadres asked, hoping to keep his desperation invisible. "Is the guilt of doing so not too much to bear?"

"No guilt shall we bear," the knight replied, "for in this, we have no obligation to participate."

"No, you do," King Tristan cut in.

The knight turned to King Tristan.

"Oh?"

Getting up from his seat, the wizened king began to make his way around the table towards the two Yunoans, and as he did so, he spoke, "What if I told you that _this_ incident is in relation to a certain _other_ incident you were involved with in the past, and that this is yet another reason why I have requested _your_ assistance, rather than someone else's?"

The knight's features hardened. "Majesty, tempt my blade _not_."

Instantly, the three other Pronterans in the room rose to their feet, a staff, a crossbow and a blade pointed his way.

"Yunoan, I must warn you," Kadres growled, his blade pointed at the boy's neck, "That if you do as much as threaten the king once more, I will smite you."

"If you know of this past incident of which he spoke," the knight retorted, "Think yourself able?"

"Sheath your weapons, my friends," the king said chidingly. He turned back to the Yunoan knight and, with a sigh, said, "Dear boy, I understand the troubles in your heart, yet I fear I must ask you two one last time, with all the honesty and simplicity I can muster. Will you help us?"

The knight and priestess both remained silent for a long moment, until finally, the knight said, "You know nothing of my heart's hurts."

"But we will help you," the priestess added. It was the first time she had spoken in the meeting. Her voice was considerably gentler than her companion's, but lined with as much maturity and authority as his. "We'll help you, King Tristan."

"Then you have my gratitude, my friends," King Tristan said with a small smile. "This meeting is adjourned."

The six participants stood, and, excluding the two Yunoans, bowed to each other before heading towards the door.

Soon, the room was empty, save for Kadres and the Yunoan knight. Noting the current state of the room's tenseness, Kadres could confirm that the intensity was, indeed, radiating off the boy.

"Do you still have something to say?" he asked darkly.

The Yunoan simply watched him for a long moment before speaking, "These words I shall say unto you, and in your wisdom may you see fit to hold them firm in heart. I sense much held shrouded from me, and verily, I say unto you, that if any harm befalls my companion, I shall bring Heaven's very wrath down upon this place, that no Pronteran in life that day whom had ever set foot in this room shall live to see the come of new morn."

"What insolence," Kadres snarled, slamming his fist on the table. "We hid _nothing_ from you!"

"Such are the words wrought by a sinner's tongue in arrogance," the knight replied spitefully. Nodding curtly in Kadres' direction, he said, "I take my leave, sir knight. Fare thee well."

With that, he stepped past Kadres and out the door, his cape whooshing behind him elegantly.

/

**Character Profiles** (These might appear once every few chapters, so check it out when you have the time!)

Name: _Xetil Fades_

Age: 17

D.O.B: 18th November

Nationality: Pronteran

Skill Class: Knight

Profession: Pronteran Cavalry, 7th Division Captain

Bio:

Xetil was born into the Fades family: a family of lower nobility, and thus had a privileged life free from both the labours of laymen and the responsibilities of high nobles.

He grew up to be a bright and confident youth, and is well respected for his fighting skills with both lance and sword, and for upholding the primary principles of knighthood without fail, no matter the situation. For instance, he once went out of his way to save a common maid during a rebel guild's siege on the Pronteran Castle, placing his life in danger in the process.

Xetil is usually a respectful person, but is slightly emotional, and has a tendency to flirt at times, especially with his childhood friend, Lune, much to her chagrin.

_Note: In this story, just because one would appear as a typical knight in-game doesn't necessarily mean he works as a knight. Job classes in this story are based upon the character's preferred style of combat, not his actual profession in life._

/

**Author's Notes:**

I'll admit, this was a really fun chapter to write. I especially liked writing the Yunoan's style of speech. Very elegant and direct, no?

The Yunoans will obviously play a rather large role in the story, though I won't spoil any of that right now. Moving on, a word of thanks to my first two reviewers:

**Ai:** You've always been supportive of my fan-fictions, so thanks! And yeah, I'll update. Can't promise to update too regularly once school starts, but yeah, I'll do my best!

**RicePaper:** Thanks for the compliment, I appreciate it! Hope you enjoyed this chapter as you did my prologue! Happy reading, and keep reviewing!

And to all of you readers out there… Well, if you can, spare a little time, share your thoughts, and send in a review or two, won't you? As I've mentioned, more reviews, more replies, faster updates, and so on and so forth.

Motivation is important, after all.

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

"Lighthalzen, huh?" Xetil murmured as he exchanged a troubled glance with Lune.

"Yes, Lighthalzen," Lord Kadres replied from across the desk, pinching at his forehead absently. "It's a dangerous mission, even for you two. In fact, I was hoping _I_ would be sent on it myself."

"Is it… that bad?" Lune asked hesitantly.

"I'm afraid it is," Kadres said with a sigh, getting up from his seat. "You see, you will be going to Lighthalzen with two Yunoans, and they are both quite sensitive about this whole thing."

"The Yunoans from this morning?" Xetil asked Lune. Lune nodded slowly, and Xetil turned back to Kadres, "Why would they be sensitive about this? And what's their involvement, anyway?"

Kadres sighed again, and leaned over the table slightly, locking gazes with Xetil.

"I'll get to that later," he said. "Have you heard of the Crimson Call?"

Xetil shook his head, but Lune nodded and said, "The Crimson Call is the call to rise up against the Pronteran leadership. I heard the rebel guild _Libertas_ declared a Crimson Call last week, in…" Lune trailed off with a gasp of realization. "No…"

"Yes, they declared it in Einbroch," Kadres finished for her. "The city closest to Lighthalzen. What's worse is that the revolutionists in Einbroch have joined up with them, and they now have a few hundred gunmen at their disposal."

"Gunmen?" Xetil asked, startled. "A few hundred? Where'd they get enough gunpowder for that?"

"The Mjolnir Mines," Kadres answered grimly. "We received word that they've sent miners there just recently. But don't worry; we've dispatched the 9th Cavalry to deal with them. They'll be wiped out in no time."

"Are you sure?" Lune asked, her frown deepening. "They wouldn't have been bold enough to declare the Crimson Call unless they're sure of their military might…"

"Have faith in our comrades, girl," Kadres chided, taking his seat once more. "They'll make it."

"Please carry on, sir," Xetil said. "With the briefing, I mean."

"Very well." Kadres cleared his throat. "So now you know you'll be facing hostiles on your journey to Lighthalzen, and worse still, the presence of the _Libertas_ military in Einbroch means airship travel between Lighthalzen and Yuno has been suspended, so you'll have to travel over the treacherous terrain there.

"But that goes without saying. Now, what you must know is your _mission_. We have discovered that _Libertas_ had taken a keen interest in a bio project codenamed _Breakthrough_. It is a project which was conducted in the Lighthalzen Bio Labs."

"What are the project details?" Lune asked.

"Well, we are unsure of the details," Kadres admitted, "but what we do know is that this project aims to create the 'ultimate human being'. We are aware that the Bio Lab's security personnel in the past were experimented upon so they may achieve near-superhuman capabilities. However, we have reason to believe that this experiment is different."

"That reason being?" Xetil asked.

"The Yunoans," Kadres answered simply.

"Why's that?"

"The two Yunoans who will be accompanying you were directly involved with project _Breakthrough_. We have reason to believe that one of them is the only surviving specimen of the project."

"He's superhuman? Like, superhuman-_superhuman_?" Lune asked hesitantly.

"She, actually," Kadres corrected. "And yes, I believe she is. But no matter, this involvement is why it is safe to say that they're sensitive about this entire quest. You must know that they were quite adamant about not going, even if they ultimately agreed to help."

"You said 'I believe'? Does that mean she might not _be_ the ultimate human being?" Xetil said after a moment.

"Well, yes. After all, the Yunoans would not confirm this speculation, so we cannot say for sure," Kadres replied darkly.

"So what _is_ our mission? Meaning, what are our objectives?" Lune asked. Xetil could tell that she was troubled at how uncooperative Kadres had made out the Yunoans to be, but he admired how she covered it up. She was still ready to do her job.

"Your objective is to head to Lighthalzen and either procure or destroy all documents and apparatus relating to project _Breakthrough_ before they fall into enemy hands. If those brutes manage to replicate the project, who knows what problems we'll face in future…"

"And the Yunoans with us?" Xetil asked. "Will they cooperate?"

"I can only hope so," Kadres replied darkly. "They are to serve as your guides through the labyrinth of corridors within the Bio Labs. I think, though, that you would probably find them helpful in the battles you're bound to face on your journey."

"We probably don't need them for that," Xetil said confidently. "I think Lune and I are good enough in combat."

"So do I, but be prepared for anything," Kadres said warningly. "You'll be heading over Mount Mjolnir to reach Aldebaron. From there, head northwest towards Yuno, and then turn southwest, around Einbroch, to Lighthalzen. Your Yunoan guides know the way."

Nodding to signify that he was done, Kadres stood up, and, catching the cue, Xetil and Lune stood as well.

"I can't help but feel a bit… well, uneasy about this mission," Lune said uncertainly as she turned towards the door of Kadres' chambers.

"Nor can I," Kadres admitted as he unlocked the door and opened it for them. As they made their way out, he held a scroll out to Xetil and said grimly, "Before you leave, take this."

Xetil took the scroll and glanced down at it with a frown.

"What's this?" he asked, reaching to break the seal. Before he could do so, however, Kadres raised two fingers and struck Xetil's wrist, eliciting a yelp from the young captain.

"Do _not_ open it yet," the general said sharply as Xetil passed the scroll to Lune so he could massage his arm. Even though the old man had only used two fingers to hit him, it sure hurt. Fixing a firm gaze on Xetil, Kadres continued, "Listen well. Only break that seal when you arrive at the Bio Labs. Read it just before you proceed to destroy or claim any documents. It contains your other mission objectives."

"There's more to this mission than what you've briefed us on?" Xetil asked, surprised.

"Yes, there is," Kadres answered firmly. Lowering his voice, he said, "Now remember, these Yunoans you're travelling with… They are very dangerous."

"Isn't that a good thing, considering that they're our allies?" Lune asked from behind Xetil.

"That's not what I meant, girl," Kadres hissed. He turned back to Xetil and continued, "Whether or not they are our allies, be mindful of their dealings. Keep that scroll hidden from their knowledge. Understood?"

"Yes sir," Xetil said with a nod, although his mind was buzzing with questions.

"Good," Kadres murmured with a sigh, as if relieved. "Have some rest, then, and may Odin's blade cut you a safe path."

/

Lune sighed, pulling her covers over herself tightly. It felt colder than usual that night, but she knew it was not really. She was anxious about the mission, and though she might deny that in public, now that she was left alone in the privacy of her room, with no one before which she could deny that fact, she found herself facing the hard truth.

Fear had gained a foothold in her heart, and worse still, she did not know why. Could it be the scroll that Lord Kadres had given to Xetil? She had suspected it was something neither she nor Xetil would be very willing to do, considering the fact that Lord Kadres did not want them to read it yet. Or perhaps it was something neither of them would be willing to do because neither of them would understand until they arrived at the Bio Labs.

The very thought sent shivers down her spine, and she threw her blanket over her head whole. She had never liked the dark, but it had never scared her much. Right then, though, she felt like the night was swallowing her whole.

She shut her eyes tight and sought in her mind for some memory capable of distracting her from the dark, and finally found one. It was back when she was nine.

She, Xetil, and their good friend, Xilos, had snuck out of Prontera late at night to watch shooting stars. Lune vaguely remembered gasping in awe as the she saw her first shooting star ever streak across the sky, and a chuckling Xilos had told her, "Make a wish, Lune."

"Why?" she had asked, puzzled.

"Common folk say that wishes made upon a shooting star have a profound impact on destiny," Xilos had replied. "My parents say it's just nonsense, but if it's true… well, what harm can it be, making a wish?"

"Hmm… I wish…"

Lune felt a tear well up in her eye at the memory. _I wish I'll marry you one day, Xilos,_ she had whispered under her breath shyly, for Xilos was her love interest at that point in time. He was two years older than her and Xetil, with long, light brown hair, typically tied back in a low ponytail and startling green eyes. And oh, was he charming….

But she would never marry him. Two years ago, he had gone on a mission which details he refrained from telling her or Xetil about, and had never returned. She remembered seeing him off with Xetil worriedly that fateful evening, when he and a knight she did not recognise were grimly packing their belongings on their respective Peco-peco.

"I'll be away for awhile, Lune," he had said softly without even looking at her. "I'm sorry, but my friend here and I have some unfinished business we must tend to."

"What unfinished business? Won't you tell me before you go?" Lune had pled to know.

"Xilos is doing you good favour to keep secret our quest," the unfamiliar knight had said sharply as he mounted his Peco-peco. "Keep your tongue in check, and tempt his not."

Lune bit her lip and cast her gaze downwards. Beside her, Xetil stepped forward and said, "Xilos, you haven't taught me your signature move yet."

Chuckling, Xilos patted Xetil on the shoulder.

"Xetil, you're a good fighter, and I want to continue mentoring you," he had said with a warm smile. "But it's time you created your own style of combat. Didn't you say you find shields distasteful?"

"Not the way you use them, no," Xetil had protested.

"Xilos, time flies before us. We must move quickly to catch up with it," the unfamiliar knight said urgently.

"Just a second, friend," Xilos chided. Turning back to Xetil, he said, "Keep training, Xetil. Your skills are keen, and your potential is great. Strive to be better, Xetil, and you'll surpass even me one day."

"Xilos, my patience runs short."

Xilos turned and smiled apologetically at the knight. "Sorry," he said. Turning back to face Lune one last time, he said again, "Sorry. I'll make up for it on my return. Wait for me, okay?"

Lune had nodded numbly, and, together with Xetil, watched as the two warriors had ridden off towards the horizon.

The memory swirled and darkened into nothingness as sleep captured Lune, and even as she fell into slumber, she murmured, "Xilos, you never came back…"

/

"Right, all packed!" Xetil declared, patting his mount on its hunches and ignoring its annoyed chirps. Turning to Lune, he asked, "How about you? You ready?"

"Hmm? Yeah…" Lune said. She noticed Xetil's frown, and quickly smiled to cover up her preoccupation.

The memories from last night were still vivid in her mind, even if it had been temporarily shrouded by exhaustion. Such memories were hard to banish from mind, even if one was as wilful as her.

Currently, the two were at the northern gates of Prontera, doing their final supply checks and awaiting their guides' arrival. Both of them were quite uncertain of what to expect, but neither voiced their uncertainties.

"This is kind of exciting, huh?" Lune said abruptly, hoping to add more to her charade than just a smile. "I mean, going on a mission with not much of a plan and all…"

"I thought you usually preferred planned missions," Xetil said, blinking in surprise.

"I usually _take_ planned missions," she corrected in a fake-bright manner. "That's why this is pretty fun for me. The lack of planning makes this feel almost like an adventure!"

Xetil put a hand on his hip.

"You're acting strange today," he observed aloud.

Before Lune could answer, a sharp, callous voice cut into the conversation, "Strange though her behaviour may be, shall we set discussion of that matter on hold?"

Xetil and Lune turned to see two persons walk up to them, their own Peco-peco following behind them obediently. The first was a man with straight raven black hair that covered the entire right half of his face. He had keen, dark brown eyes—or at least, his left eye was; they couldn't see his right—and wore a misty blue cape over a set of lightweight, silver-lined battle garbs. A sleek sword hung from the right side of his belt, its silver hilt wrapped with a long cord of blue fabric.

The second person was a woman his age. She was pretty in an exotic sense, with slightly tanned skin and shoulder length black hair. Her eyes were of similar colour to her companion's, though they bore much more warmth, and she was donned in a simple, grey-blue battle dress quite similar to that of a priestess from the Pronteran Church.

Pretty and warm though the woman might appear to be, Lune's gaze was helplessly drawn to the man. He possessed a certain lure she could not quite place—it wasn't a romantic attraction or anything of that sort, but Lune sensed some bond between him and herself which she did not quite understand.

"… I suppose we shall, yeah. I presume you're our guides?" Xetil replied to the man. He extended one hand. "I'm Xetil Fades, nice to meet you."

The man simply glanced down at Xetil's hand and looked away, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Your name is of no concern to me, and nor should mine be of such to you," he said, his voice still devoid of warmth. "We are merely to be your guides in the Bio Lab, and once our job is done, you shall do well to forget of our existence. If enough has been said, we leave at once."

With that, the two Yunoans stepped past Xetil and began to head out of the city.

"Gee, what's his problem?" Xetil scoffed, staring after the two darkly. "He could at least be a bit more friendly, right, Lune? Lune?"

But Lune did not seem to hear him. Staring dreamily after the man, she murmured, "… Haven't I seen him before…?"

/

**Author's Notes:**

Okay, so sorry, I was delayed with the writing. I'll keep the reasons to myself, though, hah.

Anyway, I did come across some writer's block in this chapter, but I fought to overcome it all, and I managed! So… yeah. Thanks to all the reviewers once more…

**xxxScarlet:** I'll be putting up Lune's character profiles in one of the next chapters, so no worries there! But yeah. The most I'll reveal as of now is that she's a bow-user. What her job class is, exactly… Well, in this story, that really isn't too relevant, but yeah, you'll find out soon enough, if you keep reading!

**Cooladept:** What the… I don't remember telling _you_ I got a new story up! But hey, it's good to have you reading—and reviewing, no less! I'll be looking forward to hearing more reviews from you, so make sure you check in often!

**Ai:** By God, you sure are an impatient reviewer. Always hurrying me… But oh well, it's a good sign, I guess. It's great to have appreciative readers.

That's all for the last chapter, right? I actually want to see a lot more reviewers, but… well, I can't be too ambitious. The story's only just begun, anyway. So…

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	4. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

As evening approached, the four riders finally slowed to a halt, deep within the forests north of Prontera in a clearing. The cool air promised a cold night out in the wild, but no one said a word about it. There was nothing anyone could do, and they all knew it.

Tying his Peco-peco to a nearby tree, Xetil sighed with relief and looked around, examining their resting area. It was a small clearing about three metres in diameter. Save the path leading through it—the path they had followed thus far—and another leading to the east, to a gentle stream, there were no other ways in or out of the clearing, unless one intended to navigate the forest off the path, in its full thickness and dangers.

Also, Xetil recalled darkly, this forest was known as the Forest Labyrinth, and for good reason. The path they had been following was the only path in the forest which had ever been mapped—because it was the only path which never changed. If one travelled off that path, the forest itself would seemingly move to ensure that he never escapes it, and then, it would proceed to devour him wholly.

Or at least, that was what legend said. Xetil was not sure himself. No one who had survived the forest's mystery ever spoke about it, and Xetil believed that was reason enough to avoid facing it.

A cool gust blew past, and to Xetil's right, Lune shivered slightly. Xetil glanced concernedly at her, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine," she tried to assure him.

"No you're not," Xetil shot back, slightly offended that she thought she could fool him. Gesturing at her Pronteran huntress uniform, he continued, "Three quarters of your body is left exposed to the cold, and you tell me you're fine? You'll shrivel up tonight, I tell you."

"I-I'm fine," she said hotly, her cheeks going red with embarrassment. "And don't mention my clothes in that manner, like you're a… a… a letch!"

"A _what_?" Xetil exclaimed angrily. "Lay off, man—girl, whatever—I was simply stating a fact!"

"I know that," Lune retorted, "but… oh, never mind!"

Lune looked away, her arms folded across her chest, leaving Xetil glaring furiously at her. Some distance away, a quiet chuckle sounded, and Xetil turned to find the Yunoan priestess laughing softly to herself.

"What?" Xetil asked defensively, scowling.

"Nothing," she replied, shaking her head. "Your antics just brought back some old memories."

"Oh?" Xetil asked, his surprise that she was speaking to him quickly overshadowing his anger. "Tell me about it."

The priestess shook her head with a small smile.

"No, not today, maybe," she said.

"Where's your friend, by the way?" Xetil asked, frowning as he noted the absence of the Yunoan knight.

"He went out to scout around," the priestess replied. Shooting Lune an amused glance, she added, "and to look for firewood."

Xetil laughed as Lune huffed irritably at the priestess's words. Deciding that he could take the chance, Xetil stepped towards the priestess and extended one hand.

"I don't believe I managed this right this morning," he said, "but… I'm Xetil Fades."

"Rylaira Syren," the priestess replied, shaking his hand.

"Nice to meet you," Xetil said, happy that she was receptive. He gestured at Lune. "This is Lune Ovelia. She's my childhood friend."

"P-pleasure to meet you," Lune said quickly, stepping forward to shake Rylaira's hand.

Rylaira nodded and smiled.

"You too," she said.

Xetil waited for her to continue, but when she did not, he said, "Uh… your friend… He's not very friendly, is he?"

Rylaira tilted her head to one side, as if she did not quite understand him, and then, casting her gaze downwards, she said, "I apologize for his behaviour. He really isn't like this most of the time."

"Really?" Xetil asked. Laughing uncertainly, he said, "I kind of find that hard to believe, actually…"

"He's a really nice person…"

Xetil bit his lip, realizing he had upset her.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I'm sure I must've just caught him in a bad mood."

"What's he like most of the time?" Lune asked curiously.

"Oh, umm… well…" Rylaira thought for a moment before continuing, "He's really quite sweet most of the time. Understanding, discerning, intelligent… and caring, too. Very."

"Are you two close to each other?" Lune pressed.

"Yeah," Rylaira said with a nod. "Quite."

"I mean, is it… you know…?"

"Ah, it's nothing!" Xetil interrupted, hurriedly clamping one hand over his friend's mouth. "We didn't mean to pry!"

Rylaira chuckled amusedly.

"It's alright," she said as Lune tore Xetil's hand from her mouth, sulking. "I'm not angry."

"Alright," Xetil said, somewhat relieved. "So, umm… why is he… upset at the moment?"

"We've had some involvement with the Bio Labs." Rylaira said, her smile fading slightly. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Oh, okay, sorry," Xetil said, careful to sound sincere. He sought in futile for a new topic to talk about, but gave up quickly, realizing there was little to talk about, considering how new their friendship with Rylaira was. "Well… let's clean up the place, then," he suggested, gesturing at the many fallen leaves and twigs in the clearing. "I'll help… your friend set up a fire when he gets back."

"His name is Tyferia," Rylaira supplied, her smile returning quickly. "Song-Blade Tyferia."

"Song-Blade?" Xetil asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that like a title?"

"Yes, it is a title of sorts," Rylaira affirmed. She gestured at a particularly dense pile of leaves. "Well then, shall we?"

/

The Yunoan knight—Tyferia, Xetil remembered—appeared about twenty minutes after the three had started clearing the area to make it more accommodating, and, deciding that it would seem a bit rude of him to know about Tyferia without conducting a proper introduction, Xetil approached the knight, dragging Lune along with him.

The Yunoan looked up from where he was positioning his collected firewood at the centre of the clearing as they approached and stood without a word.

"… Um, Tyferia, correct?" Xetil said awkwardly. He extended his hand to the man for a second time that day and said, "I believe we set off on the wrong foot, so… Yeah. My name is Xetil, and this is Lune."

Tyferia simply watched them for a few moments, and then closed his eyes with a sigh.

"Your ears have been graced by her voice, then?"

"Rylaira's? Yeah," Xetil said, nodding. Smiling friendlily, he continued, "She spoke of your niceness. I hope we'll be able to experience it as well. We're on a mission as comrades, and I'd like to be able to count on you."

Tyferia opened his eyes and looked Xetil in the eye. The intensity of his gaze was as piercing as ever, but Xetil was relieved that its lack of emotion was not so evident anymore. He was getting through.

"… You have no need to fear any lack of cooperation in battle," Tyferia said softly. "You can have trust in my blade to do its job, for my trust in yours is such."

Xetil took a moment to sort out the knight's words, and then nodded with a grin.

"Great. It's good to know that I'm getting through," he said. Glancing down at his hand—which had been ignored once more—he quickly withdrew it.

Grimacing, Tyferia said, "My apologies. I have long not shaken hands with any."

"It's okay," Lune piped in, smiling warmly. "I'm Lune Ovelia. Pleased to meet you."

Tyferia nodded curtly and, without another word, returned to preparing the wood. Turning to Lune, Xetil said, "Go help Rylaira with cleaning up, Lune. I'll stay here and prepare the firewood."

Lune nodded, and, glancing once more at Tyferia, jogged away towards Lune.

"Her eyes speak of great loss," Tyferia said as Xetil knelt to help him.

"Does it?" Xetil asked. He smiled and shrugged. "We've been through hardships. But we remain strong."

"Well enough," Tyferia replied absently.

"Rylaira called you Song-Blade just now," Xetil said, hoping he sounded casual and not prying, because he really wanted to keep the conversation going. "Why's that?"

"I know not," Tyferia answered. "Men bestow titles upon that which they admire. As to why my name and person is admired, I have no knowledge."

"Oh…" Xetil intoned, blinking. He was still slightly dazzled at Tyferia's style of speech. "Your way of talking is… quite complex," he said, choosing his words carefully. "It's a bit hard for me to follow."

"I apologize," Tyferia said. "I understand that few tongues have learnt mine's way."

"I think it's pretty cool, though," Xetil admitted, laughing.

"No matter," Tyferia said with a shrug. He set one last piece of wood in place and looked up. "A step back, please."

Xetil obeyed and stepped away, expecting the man to produce a flint to start the fire, but instead, Tyferia merely raised his left hand, its palm facing the firewood, and closed his eyes.

A sphere of blue fire appeared in his palm and shot into the core of the neatly stacked wood, and instantly, it lit up with blue flames. The fire's colour quickly dulled to the typical orange, and, satisfied, Tyferia stood up.

"How did you do that?" Xetil asked curiously, his gaze transfixed on the fire.

Tyferia shrugged.

"Who knows?" he said. He started to walk away, but stopped to stare intently at Xetil. "… How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Xetil answered. "Or, at least, I would be, by the end of this year."

Tyferia nodded thoughtfully and turned. However, he turned back for a second time and murmured to Xetil, "Listen well. A fog will fall upon us this night. I fear for our safety, even if we are on charted territory."

"Isn't a fog completely normal on a cold night?" Xetil asked, puzzled.

"That may be, however," Tyferia said quickly before Xetil could reply, "Remember that normal as a fog may be, this forest is _not_ normal. Be on guard."

Xetil frowned and nodded.

"I gotcha."

Satisfied, Tyferia turned and walked away without another glance back, and proceeded to help Rylaira lay out their respective sleeping mats.

"Not normal, huh?" Xetil said quietly, watching Tyferia. "… But then again, _nothing_ about this mission is normal…"

/

**Character Profiles**

Name: Lune Ovelia

Age: 17

D.O.B: 2nd June

Nationality: Pronteran (Izlude)

Skill Class: Huntress

Profession: Pronteran 3rd Archery Troop Scout

Bio:

Lune was born to two of the Fades family's vassals, and, as such, was raised as a noble, although she possessed more common blood.

From a young age, Lune showed talent with ranged weaponry, ranging from flings to catapults and crossbows, and, of course, her signature longbow.

This talent soon led to the development of a certain friendly rivalry between herself and her master's son, Xetil, in terms of combat efficiency. However, due to their different forms of combat, neither could prove better than the other in a duel.

As a teenager, Lune was lithe in shape, graceful in movement, and extremely attractive in appearance, and thus, much to her annoyance, received much attention from other guys. Ironically, Xetil's occasional lack of acknowledgement in regards to her looks annoyed her just as much, although she could not explain why.

Lune's only love interest thus far, Xilos Caller, left on a mission two years prior to the story and never returned. Ever since, Lune had refrained from entertaining men who tried to court her.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Ah, damn, I was _so_ delayed with this one! I'm so, so sorry!

Anyway, as you can tell, this is pretty much a lead-up chapter, meaning, it's a kind of filler which is needed to lead a story forward. So… yeah, I know it's not the most _interesting_ of chapters, but hey, it's needed.

So yeah… on to the reviewers…

**xxxScarlet:** Stay interested! I'll keep at it. Sorry if I made you wait too long! Come to think of it, sorry to all my readers, but… ah, whatever.

**CoolAdept:** Flattery? Or… never mind. Take it from me: if you only bothered sitting down and thinking out a story with some form of motivation or inspiration, you'd write out a good story, too.

**Ai:** The sense of urgency hit me, but it can't do much to help for this chapter! Anyway, yeah, nice guesses—I won't tell you if they're true or not—but yeah… Does this chapter say enough about that?

Hah, that's all, right? Right? Right. If that's the case, keep reading, keep reviewing, and… yeah.

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	5. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

Even as the light of dawn broke over the horizon the next morning, Xetil and Lune found themselves awake and hurriedly packing their belongings. Just several minutes earlier, Tyferia had roused all of them from slumber in a hushed yet urgent manner, and even up until now, no one had any idea why he had done so. All he had told them to do was to pack up as quickly as they could and get ready to leave.

Still fighting the tiredness that hung on to his eyelids stubbornly—and this weird and unknown, but unbelievably strong tension that was in the air—Xetil secured his pack to his mount and turned to Tyferia questioningly.

"Why…"

"Be silent," Tyferia cut him off curtly. "Danger lurks close by. Best hold your tongue for want of being unheard."

Xetil instinctively shot a glance to his side, and was nearly scared out of his wits to find someone standing there, but sighed in relief as he realized it was Lune. Shaking his head in hopes of ridding his mind of its hazy state, Xetil moved to help Lune secure her own hastily packed survival gear to her mount.

The moment they were done, Tyferia signalled for them to mount their Peco-peco, and then began to mount his own. He paused, however, and frowned.

"What is it?" Lune asked uncertainly.

Tyferia paid her no heed, and instead walked to the edge of the clearing. Placing one hand on a small tree there, he closed his eyes, as if listening intently—and then, in a move faster than Xetil's eyes could follow, Tyferia's blade left its sheath, sliced the tree cleanly in half down the centre, and then returned to its sheath, all so quickly that Xetil had not even the time to see the blade itself.

Seams appeared in the trunk of the tree Tyferia had just cut, and, as it fell forward, Xetil realized that its trunk was split near the roots.

"Legs…?" Xetil murmured, puzzled.

"That's an elder willow," Lune realized. "Tyferia… how did you…?"

"Know?" the Yunoan supplied the word for her. "There was no tree here in the night just past." Sighing, he glanced down at his victim and added quietly, "I had hoped to avoid detection by keeping you quiet, but I guess it can't be helped…"

"What do you mean, 'had'?" Xetil asked suspiciously.

"It knows where we are now," Rylaira said quietly from behind Xetil. "The elder willow's presence serves as evidence enough for that."

"What? Who knows where we are?" Xetil hissed at her.

"The Spirit of the Forest," Rylaira replied, her expression darkening. "The entity that serves to deliver but one thing to all who trespasses its dwelling: death."

"The Baphomet," Tyferia said softly. "Let us make haste and depart, lest we want to give it time enough to materialize."

Xetil nodded mutely, blinking in shock at the news. The Baphomet was a legendary monster which boasted immense power and strength. Rumour has it that the creature wielded a large scythe in battle, and that millenniums ago, it had single-handedly decimated an entire army which had set out to destroy it.

Still, knowing the history was but one thing. Having the famed Baphomet come after them was another. _Why_ did Baphomet decide to appear now, and besides, how did…

The thought froze in Xetil's mind for a long moment. Then, he hesitantly asked, "Tyferia, how do you know it's coming after us? Baphomet only appears once every so often. That it should appear now… What makes you think that?"

"… Can't you sense it?" Tyferia asked darkly. "Do you not feel the air pressing in around you; how it constricts you and holds your courage hostage? Such is the power which radiates off entities of great strength—the Baphomet included."

Realization dawned on Xetil. So _that_ was the tension he had felt ever since he'd awoken.

"If that answers your questions, we shall move at once," Tyferia said, his voice steeled with finality.

"Okay," Xetil said quickly with a nod.

Tyferia quickly remounted, and, with a single glance over his shoulder to make sure everyone was accounted for, he took a hold of his mount's reins and kicked at its flanks, urging it forward and out of the clearing.

Xetil nodded to Rylaira and gestured at Lune to go before him, and then took the rear. As the four rode, Xetil was grimly aware of the fact that he had not had the time to put on his armour. He was at the least slightly reassured by the fact that his sword was still attached to his belt. However, the thought of fighting the Baphomet—if it was really it to begin with—was not, to say, the most appealing thing he could think of right then.

After all, he was more interested in escaping, as his companions were.

The four rode hard for several long, uneventful minutes, and then, all of a sudden, Tyferia slowed drastically and shouted, "Scatter!"

Before anyone could question why, Tyferia's mount swerved sharply to the side—just in time to avoid being hit by a sharp tendril which had shot right out of the trees to their right.

Tendrils began to shoot out from within the trees on either side of the party, forcing the four to swerve in and out and jump over and under the tendrils that had shot out before them.

For a moment there, all seemed well—and then a large number of tendrils shot out from either side of the path before Tyferia, creating a wall. The four riders halted abruptly, and barely had the time to leap from their mounts as tendrils shot at them from every conceivable direction, impaling their mounts.

Xetil landed on the ground hard with a grunt, and then threw himself to the side to avoid a tendril which shot for him from in front. Drawing his blade, Xetil got into a ready position and prepared himself to deflect more tendrils, but none came.

Instead, in the distance, he made out a silhouette within the fog. It was humanoid, with the legs of a goat and the horns of a ram. And in one massive arm, it grasped a large battle scythe.

"By Odin…" Xetil gasped in horror, stepping back. The silhouette threw its head back and let out a roar so loud and forceful that the mist billowed in on itself, and then dispersed, revealing the Baphomet in all its magnificence.

Without warning, the Baphomet swung its scythe down and rushed at Xetil at an unbelievable speed. Xetil's eyes widened in horror, and, with a cry born of terror, he raised his blade defensively. The Baphomet's scythe landed on his weapon painfully, and Xetil felt his left knee buckle under the weight of the blow.

"Xetil!"

The Baphomet looked up at the sound of Lune's voice, and then brought its scythe up to deflect the girl's first arrow.

Relieved of the Baphomet's immobilizing strength, Xetil dived to the side and got into a ready stance. He glanced behind to find Lune aiming an arrow at Baphomet, and, further back, Rylaira seemed to be magically influencing the wall of tendrils, causing them to unfurl slowly by some magical means. Tyferia stood by her, his eyes transfixed on the Baphomet.

"Xetil," Tyferia said softly. "My apologies, but I shall not leave Rylaira's side at such a time."

Fear escalated within Xetil's chest, but, mustering his courage, Xetil pushed down the fear and nodded.

"Understood."

Flourishing his weapon, Xetil leapt forward with a roar, bringing his claymore down on the Baphomet hard. The Baphomet deflected his attack easily, unfazed, and then retaliated with an attack of its own. Leaping over its scythe, Xetil lashed out at the Baphomet yet again.

The Baphomet blocked Xetil's attack, but, rather than attempt to retaliate, it leapt back, evading an attempted intervening shot from Lune in the process, and raised its free hand.

A ball of dark energy began to form in its palm, and, before either Xetil or Lune could try to interrupt its attack, the Baphomet leapt into the air and threw the sphere of dark energy down at the ground.

Purplish energy radiated outwards from the sphere's point of impact with the ground and slammed Xetil's back against a large tree. The radiation continued for awhile, and then, out of the corner of Xetil's eye, he made out an icy blue spiral of energy that penetrated right through the eye of the purple explosion, creating a second explosion.

The explosion increased the pressure on Xetil's back for an instant, but he was thankful to find that immediately after, he fell forward, the force of Baphomet's attack dissipating.

Turning to the side to see where the blue spiral had come from, Xetil was shocked to find no one but Tyferia, his left arm raised, palm facing forward.

_Tyferia… Did you…?_

Xetil's train of thoughts was cut short when Baphomet appeared out of the cloud of dust the second explosion had thrown up and rushed at him. Dodging to the side, Xetil swung at the creature's exposed shoulder hastily, almost grazing it, but the Baphomet stopped his blade mere centimetres from its mark.

Growling in frustration, Xetil dived out of the way of the Baphomet's next attack and rolled over, coming up on his feet. Spinning around, Xetil raised his weapon and let out a cry of exertion as he brought it down on the Baphomet.

The creature blocked his blade, but did not seem to expect the web of golden energy which materialized off Xetil's claymore. The web engulfed the Baphomet, sending it flying backwards and into the very same tree Xetil had been slammed against earlier.

Grinning, Xetil straightened up. Seems like the famed Baphomet could be defeated by a simple, well-timed Bowling Bash attack after all.

His grin vanished, however, when the Baphomet shot out of the smoke once again, its free hand blazing with purple energy. The Baphomet swung at Xetil with its scythe, and, when Xetil dodged, it abruptly reversed its attack to deflect another of Lune's shots. It then reared back, a sphere of dark energy forming in its palm, and threw the magical sphere at Lune.

Lune dodged the attack—and found a second sphere headed her way. The sphere struck the ground just in front of her and exploded, sending the Pronteran scout flying backwards.

"Lune!" Xetil cried in horror as Lune's body hit the ground limply, completely motionless. Turning to face the Baphomet with a renewed fervour, Xetil raised his blade high in the air. A golden aura flashed to life about the knight, and he rushed forward, lashing out at the Baphomet savagely.

The Baphomet deflected Xetil's first attack—but did not react fast enough to block Xetil's second attack, which came almost instantly after his first had ended.

Xetil's blade sliced a thin line in its right wrist, eliciting a howl of agony. The Baphomet swung at Xetil violently, and then abruptly cancelled its attack in favour of slamming its left fist into the ground, creating a large, purplish explosion.

The force of what appeared to be the Baphomet's very own variant of Magnum Break pushed Xetil back and away from his opponent—but not for long. Xetil recovered quickly and shot right back at the Baphomet, slashing furiously at it.

The Baphomet was more careful now, however, and deflected each attack with decisive precision. Even as Xetil attacked, he noted the Baphomet's ability to deflect his rapid blows, even when sped up by his Two-Handed Quicken ability, and found it extremely demoralizing.

What was worse that as he fought, he knew his Two-Handed Quicken state was slowly wearing off, and he was already running out of stamina.

As a result, the Baphomet's sudden retaliation came as a complete surprise to him; the haft of the Baphomet's weapon found Xetil's chin and sent him flying. Xetil landed on the ground with a grunt, dazed. He struggled to get to his feet, but no strength seemed to be flowing into his arms.

His back hit the cold ground as his elbow gave way beneath him. Panting heavily, Xetil watched resignedly as the Baphomet raised its scythe high.

What happened next came completely by surprise. In a flash of blue light, Tyferia appeared before Xetil and deflected the Baphomet's attack with a single, left-handed slash.

The Baphomet staggered from the force of Tyferia's deflection, much to Xetil's bewilderment. Totally calm and composed, Tyferia simply stepped forward and assumed a two-handed back-stance with his left leg forward, his blade—a simple, straight katana—held before his body diagonally.

The Baphomet swung at Tyferia offensively, but he deflected the blow without even moving his feet. In fact, the Yunoan deflected attack after attack without seeming to expend much strength and all.

Finally, the Baphomet gave up on attacking and stepped back, raising its arm and preparing yet another magical assault. Even then, Tyferia did not pursue it, and allowed it to gather enough energy to build a magical sphere almost twice the size of that which it had thrown at the ground earlier.

When the Baphomet finally thrust the sphere forward, Tyferia merely watched it approach confidently, and then slid backwards, his blade glowing with an intense, icy blue energy. A new tension in the air was suddenly apparent to Xetil, almost as if a second creature of power was in the immediate vicinity, but…

Tyferia swung at the sphere of dark energy, and, as his blade came in contact with it, the sphere began to diffuse, streaks of stray energy flying in all directions. Then, Tyferia's blade cut right through the sphere, outright deleting it from existence.

The Baphomet took a step back in what seemed like surprise, and, now vulnerable and weak, having expended so much energy on such an assault, raised its weapon defensively.

"And thus the wind's blade finds its mark," Tyferia murmured quietly. With that, he leapt forward, swinging diagonally downwards at the Baphomet's scythe and knocking it out of the way. Then, he abruptly reversed the attack and struck the Baphomet's side with his weapon, cutting deeply into its body.

The Baphomet roared in pain and executed a backhand strike with its free hand, but the attack missed as Tyferia leaned back and beneath it. Tyferia then executed a sudden, low back-flip to quickly regain his balance, and, landing on one foot and one knee, Tyferia launched himself at the Baphomet one more time, impaling its chest with his blade.

Time seemed to slow as the Baphomet jerked, its scythe falling from its hand.

"_Magnum_…"

Tyferia's blade began to glow that eerie, icy blue colour.

"… _Break_."

Blue flames erupted around the Baphomet and Tyferia in a spiralling twister of fire, and when the blue fumes dispersed, the Baphomet, having been incinerated by the Tyferia's unnaturally destructive attack, was no longer in sight.

"T-Tyferia…" Xetil gasped, attempting to push himself off the ground once more, but his arm gave way again.

Turning, Tyferia walked over to him and knelt next to him with a sigh.

"Well fought, Xetil," he murmured quietly. Reaching down to put one hand over Xetil's eyes, he whispered again, "Well fought. Now rest."

/

**Author's Notes:**

Ah, okay, this was definitely _too_ late… I mean, I'm almost a month late!

But yeah, what can I say… Well, school started, and I've been busy, not just with that, but hey, I'm back. Hopefully I won't take too long to update next time. Really sorry for the long, long wait…

Still, hey! It's the first official battle of the story! Hah, right, I know having a Baphomet for the first fight is kind of an overboard thing to do, since it's widely renowned as one of the tougher MVP monsters, and I _think_ it still is… but I don't know if it is regarded that anymore, really… anyway, yeah, the whole idea was kind of the shed a bit of light on the different characters' levels of skill.

Just from this chapter, I think Xetil and Tyferia's combat abilities respectively are pretty clear-cut in their own way, though they've got more skills to boast that I won't talk about now, but for those of you who are wondering why Lune seemed to do so little, do keep in mind that realistically speaking, when you're a ranged fighter supporting your ally who fights at close range, you'd take a shot only when you're sure you wouldn't hit your ally by accident.

Also, if you noted, Xetil shows to be quite a vigorous fighter who implements a lot of dodges in his combat style, and this would further compromise Lune's ability to ensure that she doesn't hit him by accident.

As for Rylaira… well, the tendrils were the Baphomet's doing, of course, although I know it doesn't do that in the game, but… either way, yeah, since it was Baphomet's doing, they wouldn't exactly be easy to force apart, and thus, Rylaira would not be able to magically separate them had she taken part in the battle.

But I'm sure a good few of you knew that, right? Down to the reviewers:

**CoolAdept: **Well, if you like reading the story… You can finally continue now, eh? Hah!

**xxxScarlet:** Ahem, uh… it's long now, right? Well, anyway, Tyferia's style of speech is… well, if you read a lot of novels concerning the Middle and Victorian Ages, you'd find that a good few characters, usually nobles or other people of high birth, speak in such a manner. It's a kind of formal speech, but I didn't make Tyferia's speech style to be a total, direct copy.

**Ai:** Eh, don't concern yourself with that 'smiling friendlily' part. It's totally correct; you just don't hear people say it often because, like you said, it sounds weird, but it's correct, really, hah.

So that's about it. Hope to see more reviewers to reply to next time. Remember, the more reviews, the faster the update. There are exceptions, like this chapter, where I seriously have no time, but… trust me, I'll do my best!

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	6. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

"Line one! Fire!"

Gunshots echoed throughout the battlefield. Tens of Peco-peco tumbled to the ground amidst their other fallen brethren, their riders sprawling off their backs limply.

"Line two! Fire!"

Yet another burst of gunfire sounded, followed closely by the chorus of numerous carcasses and corpses tumbling to the ground.

Amidst his fallen comrades, Aelyon Telkast pushed himself off the ground weakly and looked around with tired eyes, taking in the dreadful battlefield with his sight.

_Impossible…_

"Forward lines, reload! Line three, fire!"

More gunshots sounded.

_Impossible… this… wasn't supposed to happen…_

/

"Ugh…"

Lune bit her lip anxiously as Xetil stirred with a grunt.

"Is he gonna be okay?" she asked nervously, turning to Rylaira.

"The blow dealt to his chin was quite heavy," Rylaira replied softly, her hands hovering an inch over Xetil's neck and chin, radiating a healing glow. "But there won't be permanent damage. He ought to be able to move about by noon, given sufficient healing, but until he rests at an inn or in some friendlier environment, I doubt he'll be a hundred percent well. Let's try not to rely on him too much in battle."

"Oh… okay," Lune said slowly. Shaking her head, she murmured, "If only I hadn't been careless, this might have been avoided…"

"Your shoulders deserve no burden in this," Tyferia cut in from where he stood leaning against a tree. "The Baphomet is a powerful foe. That the two of you survived so long against it… admittedly, that's quite the feat."

Lune nodded thoughtfully, and then frowned.

"Wait, 'that the two of us survived so long'? Does that mean Xetil didn't finish it off?"

"My blade closed the curtain," Tyferia replied grimly. "Not his."

"Besides, how could Xetil have ended it off if he'd been hit by such a blow?" Rylaira added pointedly with a chuckle. "The Baphomet would have to still be alive to have given it."

"I dunno, maybe Xetil hit it with a fatal wound, and with even with its dying breath it managed to retaliate?"

"With such a formidable opponent, that is highly unlikely," Tyferia replied.

"That you fought it and came out unscathed… isn't _that_ more unlikely?" Lune pointed out.

"Tyferia is… not exactly your typical warrior," Rylaira said slowly.

"I can tell," Lune said, nodding. "You've gotta be one extremely untypical warrior to have killed that thing on your own without getting your brain squashed."

"Oh?" Tyferia said, raising an eyebrow. "So Xetil is untypical, then."

"What? I didn't say that!"

"You did. His brain… that is, quoting you… wasn't squashed."

"Ah… Ah! That's not what I meant!" Lune exclaimed hotly. "What I meant was…"

She trailed off as Tyferia began to laugh, and blinked at the sight, surprised.

_He's… laughing. The guy's actually laughing…_

"Your meaning was clear," Tyferia said smoothly. "Forgive my wordplay."

"Uh, no… it's… alright," Lune said, still startled at the sight of him laughing. "Rather… how _did_ you kill the Baphomet, anyway?"

"… Is there much to say?" Tyferia said wryly. "I just killed it."

"Well, yeah, but…"

"Either way, we move as soon as Xetil is fine," Tyferia said, cutting Lune's reply short. "So rest up for now."

Lune nodded silently as Tyferia turned to check his pack. Somehow, Lune had this feeling that the enigmatic warrior had intentionally intercepted her next question before she could bring it up, but why…?

"Lune," Tyferia said suddenly without turning to look at her.

"W-what?" Lune stuttered, startled out of her thoughts.

"Some questions are best left in the depths," Tyferia said quietly, his voice solemn. "Best think them through before you ask."

Lune blinked. Could he like… read minds or something? But even so…

"Lune…"

"Y-yeah… Okay."

/

"Huh? Where'd he go?"

Aelyon held his breath as a group of riflemen jogged past his hiding spot, their rifles held high.

"You sure you saw him here, Deck?" one of the riflemen asked sceptically.

"Yeah, serious!" the leader of the group insisted. "But… I lost him."

"Gosh, you and your bad eyesight," the first rifleman grunted. "It's a wonder that you can even use that weapon."

"Say _what_?"

Gritting his teeth, Aelyon gripped his claymore's hilt and prepared to rush the group. There were only six of them, after all, and at this close range, their rifles' combat ability would be limited.

It had been three hours already since the decimation of the 9th Cavalry's main body, and even up until now, Aelyon had not managed to locate any other survivors. Fate, it seemed, had cursed him to die a lonesome death.

Currently, all he could do was try to reach the edge of the Dead Pit and rendezvous with his comrades, and he had to do so before evening. In this wretched place, noon, as it was right then, only illuminated the place so much. Earlier that morning, they were pretty much fighting blind.

Aelyon let out a deep breath, and then suddenly leapt out of hiding, drawing his blade.

For a moment, all six of the gunmen seemed stunned to see him, but they reacted quickly, lifting their rifles to their shoulders and firing.

A mixture of reflexive boosts triggered by adrenaline and internal magical capabilities kicked in, and suddenly, the bullets were not quite so invisible to Aelyon any more. Dodging under one rifleman's line of fire, Aelyon swung his blade upwards at the man's chin.

His attack was intercepted, however, by another rifleman, who had leapt in front of his comrade to deflect Aelyon's attack with his rifle's shoulder stock.

The first rifleman leapt into the air, above his comrade, and fired down at Aelyon. Reversing along the line of his previous movement, Aelyon raised his blade and deflected the few shots which came too close for comfort. Then, he abruptly leapt high into the air, his blade held high.

"Die!" he snarled, slashing down at the airborne rifleman. The startled rifleman gaped in horror as Aelyon lashed out at him, cleaving his skull cleanly in half.

Aelyon executed a quick somersault as he flew up and over his victim, and then landed in a neat shoulder roll, coming up between another two gunmen, both of which he floored and dazed with a sudden whip kick.

Stepping forward, Aelyon prepared to take the life of one of the fallen gunmen, but even as he raised his blade, a quiet feeling within him urged him to dive to the left. He did just that, barely evading the bayonet of a rushing gunman. Spinning around, Aelyon slashed at the man's neck as he ran past, beheading him.

_Four left, _Aelyon murmured mentally as he moved towards the two standing gunmen, his blade held defensively before him.

As expected, they opened fire on him, but he was prepared; he rolled beneath their line of fire and came up right in front of one of them, liberating the poor man's wrists of their hands. The gunman screamed as his hands, still clutching his rifle, clattered to the ground, and as he fell to his knees, Aelyon stepped up beside him and raised his blade high.

Crimson energy spewed forth from Aelyon's blade as he attacked, and the handless gunman was suddenly flying through the air, propelled by a torrent of red energy, into his comrade.

The two collided with a sickening crack, and both fell to the ground in a lifeless heap. Spinning around, Aelyon faced the remaining two gunmen, who were just recovering from Aelyon's whip kick.

Aelyon let out an indignant huff and strode towards the two calmly, casually flicking the blood from his blade. As he approached the two gunmen, one of them looked up and shook his head pleadingly, stepping back.

"W-wait, please…"

Aelyon did not hear him; his blade simply separated the man's head from his body before coming down on his friend's neck in a similar manner.

Slashing the air deftly to flick the fresh blood from his blade, Aelyon sheathed his weapon grimly and quickly moved towards a cluster of rocks to keep out of sight. The gunmen's corpses would be found soon. He just hoped it would be after he made it out of the Dead Pit. Its perimeter was just two miles away, after all.

He could do it, he knew.

/

_Well fought, Xetil… Well fought. Now rest._

Those words were still echoing in Xetil's head as he slowly opened his eyes with a groan.

"Oh, oh, he's awake!" Xetil heard Lune exclaim. "He's awake!"

"That's good to hear," Tyferia said dully from somewhere to Xetil's left.

Chuckling through his pain, Xetil strained to speak. "Hah, couldn't you… try to sound a bit more relieved or happy to hear that?"

"Ought I, now?" the Yunoan replied absently.

With a sigh, Xetil slowly pushed himself into a sitting position and massaged his neck gently. His chin still throbbed from the blow the Baphomet had dealt to him, but as Xetil ran his fingers along the underside of his face, he felt no traces of injury.

"I'm… fully healed?"

"Rylaira healed you," Lune said as she walked over to him, handing him his water bottle.

"Thanks," Xetil said gratefully as he accepted the drink. He took a careful sip and glanced at where Tyferia stood leaning against a tree.

"… You killed the Baphomet."

Tyferia continued staring into thin air.

"… Yeah."

"That kind of power… what exactly are you?"

Tyferia's gaze shifted to Xetil's face.

"… I'm just a warrior."

"An untypical warrior," Lune added quickly, glancing at Rylaira as she did so.

Xetil watched the exchange curiously, but chose not to ask about it. Instead, he continued, "That Magnum Break which you ended the fight with… It was unlike any I've ever seen, and then there's your magic. It… it feels unnatural."

"And what of it, then, if so?"

"I… I don't really know," Xetil said quietly. "You're obviously not a simple knight. You've mastered the more common sword-based attacks to a level whereby you're capable of altering their very form and effect. And you can use magic."

"Huh," Tyferia intoned noncommittally. "And thus being said, could I not have been trained as a warrior championing a magic order of sorts?"

"That's possible," Xetil agreed, scratching his forehead thoughtfully. "But then again, it… doesn't seem like you."

"… And from what reason do you draw _that_ inference?"

"The simple fact that you seem to prefer stepping back rather than fight, until you really can't do so any longer."

Tyferia sighed and exchanged a glance with Rylaira, who had been listening to the conversation silently all along. She looked up to meet his gaze, and then shrugged gently and smiled.

After a long moment, Tyferia sighed. "Think as you will," he said. "My origins, after all, are of no concern to you."

Xetil chuckled and nodded.

"It's fine if you don't wanna tell me, I guess," he relented. "I just thought it might ease some tension between all of us. That is, if we knew more about each other."

"… Sometimes to know less about someone is to trust him more, and sometimes, the fact that you know less about him allows him to trust you more," Tyferia mused quietly. "Trust is not about knowledge of each other. They are unrelated."

"But isn't it easier to trust someone if you know about him?"

Tyferia laughed coldly.

"Suppose I gave you this scenario: that I opened up and told you that once, in anger and vengeance, I struck a girl down before her wounded father." Tyferia turned to shoot Xetil a testy smile. "Would trust come easy to you, then?"

Lost for words, Xetil's mouth moved soundlessly for a few seconds, before he began shakily, "W-well, if you had reason…"

"In anger and vengeance," Tyferia repeated slowly.

Xetil cast his gaze to the ground, realizing the older man's point.

"I… understand. I'm sorry I pried."

"That apology won't be needed," Tyferia said with a chuckle. "Besides…"

The warrior trailed off for a few moments, frowning, and then suddenly spun about, his sword drawn.

"You whose eyes lie upon this group," Tyferia called out grimly, "Show yourself!"

No one answered. And then, followed closely by the rustle of leaves, a figure flew out of the green foliage, weapon drawn, and rushed straight at Tyferia.

Their blades clashed, and the duel began.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Alright, I shan't say anything about how late this is. I've been busy, hah, but I won't offer any more excuses.

Sorry about how late this is. Once more, it's a filler chapter—it tends to be when a major character is incapable of fighting, realize?—but since I'm late, I think I'll cook up the next chapter quickly, as an apology for those of you who waited long!

It's been a few months, so… yeah, so sorry…

**CoolAdept:** Yeah, the chapter _did_ give everyone an idea of everyone's level of strength, eh? Anyway, I'm back on Rebirth RO, under my usual nick, so if you're free and you feel up to it, don't hesitate to join me there!

**Ai:** I apologize yet again, but yeah, I've been… busy. Uh huh. Sorry there's no chapter to greet you after your A Levels, but whatever the case, hope you did well! Regarding mages being squishy… Well, yeah, nothing much to say there… I mean, who doesn't know that? I mean, if it wasn't for Energy Coat, they'd… never mind.

**xxxScarlet:** Late reviews are reviews anyway. But late updates… well, I dunno. Just hoping it's not too late.

**Yuichi:** You waited long, too? Ah, now I feel really bad!

Well, busy schedule, lots of assignments (Yuichi can testify to that), and all… I can't promise really quick updates. Hope I can update quicker, though. Slow updates don't just affect readers, after all, but if the author updates too slow, he tends to lose the feel of the story, and thus… goodbye inspiration.

So I'll do my best to be faster. Until then…

_Signing off,_

- Zemiah Dyterra


	7. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

Lune wanted to help. She really did. But she knew better than to do so. With Xetil in such a condition, it would be better if she stood by him in case there were more warriors hidden within the foliage waiting to take advantage of his state.

Besides, Tyferia didn't seem to need much help—so much so that Rylaira simply just stood to the side, keeping her distance from the battle. Both Tyferia and his assailant were locked in a vicious blade dance, Tyferia's katana clashing repeatedly against his opponent's kodachi, with neither seemingly having the upper-hand, but as Lune watched, she realized that Tyferia was in total control, subtly working his blade to prompt his opponent to shift her defence further to one side.

Already, his opponent's right shoulder was steadily becoming more vulnerable as Tyferia increased the frequency of blows he was raining at her left side.

Tyferia abruptly reversed direction, spinning around to deliver a two-handed blow towards her right shoulder, which his opponent evaded with a high back-flip.

Lune watched, awed by Tyferia's opponent's speed. The young woman seemed no older than Tyferia himself, and sported long, flowing brown hair tied back in a high ponytail and dark eyes which glinted with menace. She was dressed in a tight-fitting dark blue battle dress which revealed much of her chest, back and thighs generously.

It was a pretty provocative outfit in Lune's opinion, but then Lune's own uniform left her entire belly, arms and most of her legs bare. There really wasn't a way, Lune realized, for her to be judgemental without being hypocritical for this particular issue.

Lune slapped herself mentally. What was she thinking about in such a scenario? She should be more concerned about how the fight was progressing. In the short moment she had spaced out, the mysterious woman and Tyferia had already traded numerous blows, and neither seemed to have any intention of backing off this time.

The two traded blows ferociously, with no rest between each successive attack. They seemed to be fighting on an even footing, but then Tyferia took one step forward, and then another step forward. The woman responded in like manner, stepping back to maintain their distance. Tyferia was gaining an offensive advantage.

The Yunoan warrior pressed that advantage, his flurry accelerating gradually as he attacked, but, much to Lune's amazement, his opponent managed to keep up, deflecting blow after blow with uncanny precision.

And then the slip occurred: Tyferia jabbed at the woman with his weapon—and then abruptly retracted his blade even as the woman moved to deflect it.

The woman's eyes widened in horror as her blade blocked naught but air, and barely had enough time to take a step back in surprise before Tyferia's weapon cleaved clean through her torso.

For a moment, the woman simply stood there, an expression of disbelief etched across her face. And then her features began to distort, as if she were melting away… and then she outright vanished in a swirling burst of cherry blossom petals.

Lune stepped forward, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

"What the…"

"_Die_."

Before Lune could complete her sentence, the woman had suddenly materialized behind Tyferia, her blade held diagonally across his neck—and this time, Tyferia was the one who vanished in a flash of icy blue light.

He reappeared almost instantly after, just out of the woman's range, and lashed out at her with his katana. The woman blocked the attack with her weapon, and then back-flipped to avoid his follow-up attack: a smooth horizontal slash.

She landed lightly, elegantly, and stood up calmly, a small smile forming on her lips.

"As expected of the Song-Blade himself," she sneered. "His sword's song is quite the melody. Intriguing."

"… Silence, kunoichi," Tyferia retorted, flicking his blade in a threatening flourish. "Yours is the job to kill, not talk. Thus being said, attack!"

"That's true," the kunoichi replied, licking her lips. "I'll enjoy slaying you, for Lady Nyshea's sake!"

The woman leapt forward, her weapon flashing, and Tyferia met her first attack with ease, angling his katana to one side and raising it to deflect her horizontal attack.

"Nyshea, huh?" he said calmly as he took a step back and deflected yet another attack. "So does this mean she's chosen a side?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the kunoichi snarled, attacking yet again.

"Then I've no questions for you," Tyferia replied coldly. He caught yet another attack, and then pushed against it, locking the kunoichi in a weapon deadlock.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" the kunoichi growled. "So what if you've no questions for me?"

"That simply means… that your song is about to end," Tyferia answered. "Your life was a short melody, but that's all good. Especially if you're really one of Nyshea's lackeys; it must've been quite the dreadful song to sing."

"Shut up!" the kunoichi hissed. "It's me who would take a life today—and that life is _yours_!"

The kunoichi broke the deadlock and backed away with an evasive back-flip, putting her out of Tyferia's range. Without wasting any time, she sheathed her weapon and raised her hands, drawing a glyph in the air before her.

"What's she doing?" Lune asked softly, turning to Rylaira.

Rylaira shook her head with a sigh.

"She… is using _Ninpou_. Ninja techniques that resemble magic. Magic… that is fuelled not by the user's magical capabilities, but from her very life force."

"Isn't that… dangerous?" Xetil asked, aghast, from where he sat on the ground.

"That is the way of ninja," Rylaira replied grimly. "They do not expect to live out their lives fully, even with the many years taken off their lifespan from repeated use of _Ninpou_. Out of every thousand ninja, only one or two would die a natural death, and usually before the age of fifty."

"But that's…" Lune sought for words, but none came. Shaking her head in disbelief, she murmured, "Is this the length some people are willing to go for power?"

"It is the understanding that they would much more likely die on a mission than live long enough to grow old," Rylaira said softly. "Thus, they choose power over the many years they would likely never come to experience anyway."

"_Seal of Fire, release!_" the kunoichi shouted commandingly, and instantly, the glyph flashed a brilliant red, and flames began to engulf it. Tyferia eyed the glyph silently, and watched the fiery display without expression.

"_Dragon Fire Formation!_" the kunoichi cried, thrusting her right fist into the glyph, an orange orb within her clenched fist. The orb flashed brightly, and the flaming glyph twisted and contorted, then reformed to become a large, immaterial dragon.

"How does it feel, Song-Blade?" the kunoichi taunted from behind the dragon. "How does it feel to see the attack which would soon kill you take form?"

"Huh," Tyferia intoned with a shrug. "It certainly looks magnificent. Yet something in it's lacking…"

"Of course," the kunoichi sneered. "It lacks _weakness_."

The kunoichi waved her hand, and the dragon moved in response with a roar, swooping down on Tyferia—and coming to an abrupt halt as its snout contacted with Tyferia's raised blade.

"No," Tyferia declared. "That's not it. It lacks _purpose_, because it's not staying long enough to kill anything but the very air it is burning right now."

With a deft move, he halved the elemental cleanly, the flaming visage dissipating to fiery wisps—and through the wisps flew the kunoichi, her blade raised.

"Take this!"

The kunoichi's attack struck Tyferia's weapon, and even as Tyferia countered, the kunoichi seemed to flicker rapidly, and Tyferia's weapon passed clean through her with no visible effect. And then the flickering stopped, and the kunoichi's weapon flared to life with purplish energy, and she raised it high overhead.

"And…"

"What, exactly?"

The kunoichi's eyes widened in horror as Tyferia simply melted away before her and materialized behind her, his sword already sheathed.

She staggered, her attack striking naught but air, and turned slowly, still unable to comprehend what had just happened.

"The Mist Slash to Shadow Slash technique, huh?" Tyferia murmured softly. "You certainly possess it at its highest mastery. However… What the shadow hasn't engulfed, the shadow cannot affect."

"But… how?"

"… Rest assured; Nyshea shall hear that you died honourably in battle after giving your all," Tyferia said grimly.

"… You… didn't answer my question," the kunoichi strained to say, yet, even as a thin, crimson line appeared on her neck, a small, grateful smile lifted the corners of her lips slightly, and she fell to the ground, dead.

Lune stared at the fallen warrior for a long moment, still unable to comprehend how people could devote their entire lives to fighting, even to the point of trading years of their lifespan for combative prowess. It was… scary.

"It's tradition, Lune," Rylaira whispered from beside her. "It's their tradition. In a ninja clan, to run or decline a mission is dishonourable. And to taste dishonour is to bring one's own blade through his or her neck or stomach. Ninja are powerful warriors, yet know this: most do not die in battle. They die when they commit suicide, for they brought dishonour on themselves by failing a mission."

"What… what madman spawned this tradition?" Lune wondered aloud.

"Who knows?" Tyferia asked with a shrug. "What matters is that the ninja are dangerous foe. You would do well to keep that in mind the next time you fight them, lest your sympathy overcome you, and for the sake of allowing them to not commit suicide, you allow them to kill you. If that is your wish, let it be heard, and my blade shan't intercept your opponent's blade when it strikes for your unguarded neck."

Lune bit her lower lip, still quite shaken at the enlightenment, and shook her head.

"No. I shan't lower my guard. It… isn't worth losing my life to one who doesn't care for her own."

"Good," Tyferia said, nodding his approval of her words. His expression softened slightly, and he continued, "Lune, kindness knows no place on the battlefield. We mourn each life taken, but we rejoice in the lives we save by taking that of our enemies. Do you understand?"

"… Yes."

"Tyferia," Rylaira cut in hesitantly, "If it's Nyshea…"

"I know," Tyferia replied, nodding. He glanced at Xetil and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"… Fine, though I'm still a bit stiff," Xetil answered.

"Hmm…" Tyferia glanced at Rylaira.

"I'll speed up his healing," she answered his unspoken question.

"Very well. We leave as soon as Xetil can move freely. Until then," Tyferia said, turning to Lune, "Keep a sharp eye out."

/

Aelyon sighed with relief as he entered the jungle, having finally reached the Dead Pit's perimeter. He had successfully snuck out of that dreaded hole in the ground, and things were looking far better than they had been earlier in the day.

However, he understood that his problems were not over yet. He still had to rendezvous with what remained of the 9th Cavalry, and it was getting dark.

And according to Pronteran Military Protocol, if in a dangerous location, one was not to make fire at night to avoid detection.

And that means Aelyon could well be freezing his way through the night. Like the rest of the cavalry, he did not go into battle carrying a survival pack. Thus, he had nothing but his clothes to keep him warm.

Aelyon sighed again, this time in mild exhaustion, and surveyed his surroundings with dread. He was not exactly good at tracking, yet alone locating any specific thing. It was likely that he would have to endure a night's cold as he slept.

Shrugging, he made his way south, away from the Dead Pit and towards Prontera. The survivors probably would want to make camp somewhere further away from the Dead Pit, and at a place where reinforcements could reach them easily. Thus, going south was, in his reckoning, a smart thing to do.

He did not have to make his way very far south before voices reached his ears. Aelyon paused to listen, but the cool evening wind was blowing consistently, and the rustling leaves distorted the voices.

Grunting in exasperation, Aelyon drew his sword, stooped low, and moved towards the voices stealthily, making sure to keep concealed within the greenery. He also made sure to conceal his presence magically, just in case whoever it was that was talking was capable of sensing others by magical means.

He followed after the voices for awhile, but did not manage to glimpse the people who were talking. It was frustrating, especially when the voices became clearer, and he figured he was getting closer, and then, after a few more minutes, he would realize that the voices had drifted further away.

It wasn't until only the last rays of sunlight was left shining its brilliance over the horizon when he finally laid eyes on the voices, which belonged to four people—two men and two women—clad in cloaks which bore no emblem.

Aelyon scowled. Having cloaks with no emblems made it close to impossible to identify if they were friendly or not.

As Aelyon followed and watched, the four gathered firewood and placed them at the centre of a clearing, after which one of the men raised one hand and directed a thin bolt of blue energy into the wood, which immediately came alive with flame.

_Fire,_ Aelyon thought grimly. _Definitely not part of the Pronteran Forces, then…_

He strained his ears to listen in on the voices he had heard earlier, which belonged to the younger man and woman. Their older companions busied themselves with unfurling their sleeping mats at the edge of the clearing.

"… So," the younger woman was saying, "how are you feeling right now?"

"I'm fine," her friend said reassuringly. "But it's amazing, really, how Rylaira heals… I don't even feel the slightest bit sore."

Aelyon glanced at the older woman. That must be Rylaira, he figured. It didn't sound like a boy's name, but still… it definitely wasn't a name of Pronteran origin.

"Yeah, I'm surprised myself, too," the younger woman replied. She quietened for awhile, and then said quietly, "Hey, the 9th Cavalry was supposed to be nearby, right?"

Aelyon's brows furrowed. They knew the 9th Cavalry was here? As far as he was concerned, Pronteran civilians or travellers would only know that there were Pronteran forces in the area. To actually know that it was the 9th Cavalry that was sent…

And they weren't Pronterans.

_Spies,_ Aelyon realized darkly.

"You think we could meet up with them?" the woman asked.

"I… dunno. Maybe… they're not even around anymore," the man answered with a shrug.

_Damn right they aren't,_ Aelyon growled mentally. _They're _dead_._

The older man looked up from where he was kneeling next to his mat.

"… Quieten down," he instructed the two younger ones. "I sense hostility in the air."

Aelyon's eyes widened in horror. In his growing anger, he had lowered his guard, and had failed to fully conceal his emotions and presence from others! But still, for the man to pick him up so quickly…

The man spun around and drew a sleek katana, his eyes fixated on where Aelyon crouched in hiding.

Aelyon cursed and leapt out from within the bushes, brandishing his weapon, and rushed straight for the younger man and woman, both of whom leapt to the side to avoid his charge. Aelyon followed after the younger man, who drew his own sword from beneath his cape to defend against Aelyon's charge.

Their blades clashed, and, using his momentum, Aelyon pushed his opponent back and into the bushes at the opposite edge of the clearing from where he had leapt out from—and suddenly, the two were falling, rolling down the slope Aelyon had failed to notice, for it had been hidden behind the bush Aelyon and his opponent had fell through.

The two of them reached the foot of the slope, their landing cushioned by the thick grass there. Both swordsmen scrambled to their feet, their weapons raised, and Aelyon stepped forward, swinging his weapon heavily at his opponent.

The man ducked beneath the attack and lashed out at him in retaliation, and when Aelyon deflected his move, the man took one step back to regain his footing—and then launched himself over Aelyon to attack his exposed back.

Aelyon threw himself forward, startled, and executed a shoulder roll to come to his feet quickly to deflect his approaching opponent's flurry of light attacks.

The man was fast, agile, and his style was, to say the least, not something one would have learnt in the swordsmanship academy back in Prontera. Yet, even as the two continued to fight, Aelyon was sure he had seen this discipline of swordsmanship somewhere before, but he could not quite put his finger on _where_.

The two traded blows for a few more moments, and then Aelyon abruptly stooped low, swiping at his opponent's ankles. The man back-flipped over the attack and landed neatly on his feet, stepping forward and lashing out, one-handed, in a horizontal slash at neck level.

Aelyon leaned back to evade the attack. He spun around, gritting his teeth, and brought his weapon heavily over his shoulder at his opponent, its blade flashing with green light.

His blade met his opponent's, and green and golden light illuminated the area around them—and the Pronteran emblem beneath Aelyon's opponent's cloak.

Startled, Aelyon stared—and his and his opponent's crossed blades were knocked aside by a katana as the older man arrived at the bottom of the slope, his weapon raised.

"That's enough," he said firmly, lowering his weapon to his side

"You're… Pronterans," Aelyon uttered in horror at attacking them, his eyes still fixated on his opponent's emblem.

"… Not all of us, actually," his opponent grunted discontentedly. "And so are you, I see, though I'm beginning to have second thoughts, seeing as you attacked us!"

"I-I can explain," Aelyon began, but the older man stepped between them.

"Hold your tongue for now or bite it off if you can't," he said, sheathing his katana, "You're of the 9th Cavalry, I believe. We've got things to talk about."

"Like what?"

"Like why there are stragglers, such as you, around here tonight, instead of within the Dead Pit," the man replied grimly. He turned to Aelyon to look him in the eye, and said icily, "The 9th Cavalry has been decimated, hasn't it?"

/

**Author's Notes:**

Okay! Finally managed this because although my end of year project (which is one of the many which have been keeping me from really sitting down and writing) officially ends next Friday, I've _already_ completed the tasks assigned to me!

Well, I still gotta help the rest, but oh well.

Anyway, yeah, there were two duels here, and I hope you enjoyed them. And for those of you who are wondering who exactly Aelyon is… well, your wonders would be better placed on our main four for now; after all, I haven't revealed much about anyone, hah!

But don't worry. Aelyon will be given some screen time (or page time, if you would) as well, so you can watch out for him as well. So, for reviewers…

**CoolAdept:** Who's the new guy? Well, wait and see! Anyway, will probably be fixing more on the main storyline than filler chapters in time. Filler chapters are just to keep the story running smoothly, though I admit they're a bore to write sometimes. Because you just dunno _what_ to write…

**Ai:** It always takes long for you… And yeah, Aelyon is a new addition since the last chapter. You'll have to find out who he is just like everyone else! I'm not sure though, if I told you already, but whatever. Just keep reading!

**Yuichi: **Thanks for reading again, hah! But… you too? I mean, hey, _everyone_ seems to be saying I take a long time…

**xxxScarlet:** … Except you. Or maybe you just don't say it, I dunno! Hah, but hmm… Well, how long I take to write a chapter… usually it's done within several hours, including checking and all, though sometimes I don't even do those. What makes it seem to take long is that sometimes it's hard to find the time _and_ the mood to sit down and write. But the mood is especially important. Sometimes you would notice that when you read certain chapters, the feel of the story would reach you and it seems to come alive enough for you to picture it in your head like a movie, but other times, it just doesn't work. So it really depends, actually.

Well then, I'm in a hurry at the moment, so I'll just update this quickly. Keep reading, guys, and… for those who haven't reviewed, please do so! Especially if you got questions. Just don't ask me for spoilers!

_Signing off,_

- Zemiah Dyterra


	8. Chapter 7

_**Chapter 7**_

"… and then we tried one final charge, but it failed miserably," Aelyon was saying. "Just about two thirds of cavalry was… slaughtered. Those who weren't either made it out like I did or were taken as prisoners by the _Libertas_."

Xetil exchanged a glance with Lune, who shook her head quietly at the tale. The knight who had attacked him had revealed himself to be Aelyon Telkast of the 9th Cavalry, and had joined Xetil's group upon realizing that they were friendly to Prontera.

He had explained that he thought they were spies initially, and thus had attacked them, and, upon completing that explanation, he had, under Tyferia's prompting, begun to relate his tale of the 9th Cavalry's decimation.

Apparently, from what Xetil was able to deduce, the _Libertas_ forces had set up a set of three defensive lines near the centre of the Dead Pit, which housed the main tunnel leading to the core of the Mjolnir Mines.

The three lines had apparently taken turns laying fire upon the 9th Cavalry as it charged them, effectively covering each other as they reloaded, and as a result, not a single Pronteran had reached their lines.

And as it happened, the 9th Cavalry had retreated for a couple of hours… and then tried again. Only this time, there wasn't much of a retreat. Just about everyone had died already.

Seated opposite the campfire from Xetil, Tyferia covered his eyes with one hand and sighed.

"So… what you've basically told us so far… is that, despite having witnessed the enemy's positional and strategic advantage, the 9th Cavalry reused the _same_ tactic as before, that being… no tactics at all."

Aelyon flushed, but did not retort. Instead, he said quietly, "That's what my brother said, but… well, General Tetra thinks otherwise."

"Tetra?" Tyferia echoed, lifting an eyebrow. "Longinus Tetra?"

"You know him?" Xetil asked, surprised.

"We've had… dealings with him," Rylaira said slowly.

"The guy's a general now, huh?" Tyferia murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. "How pathetic…"

"I kind of feel that way, too," Aelyon said, nodding in agreement. "But the noble families favour him because of his high birth. Saying anything against him might prove potentially costly."

"Aristocrats," Tyferia muttered darkly. "Either way, do you have a rendezvous point?"

Aelyon's lip twitched.

"Does my general even _know_ what rendezvous are?"

Rylaira chuckled and shook her head.

"Wow… he almost sounds like you," she said to Tyferia, grinning wryly.

Tyferia sighed and slapped his forehead with an exasperated look. To Xetil's side, Lune shifted uncomfortably and reached over to tug on Xetil's sleeve.

"Uh?"

"Hey, hey… uh… who's this Tetra guy?"

Xetil gave her a funny look.

"You don't know?"

Lune scowled.

"Should I?'

"Longinus Tetra is the grandson of Norimus Tetra the Shrewd, the man who founded the Seven Chains of Strategy we learnt at the academy. Supposedly, he's an excellent strategist himself, but rumour has it that in his arrogance, he never accepts it when any of his strategies are defeated, and thus never changes his strategy even if it means defeat. So much for Lord Kadres's 'have faith in your comrades,' saying."

"What?" Lune exclaimed, incredulous. "That's… well, _stupid_!"

"That's the general," Aelyon cut in, winking at her. "He's stupid. We just can't say it to his face."

"I could," Tyferia muttered.

"Well then, would you?"

"If I meet him."

"Hmm… then I guess you will."

"Why's that?" Xetil asked, raising an eyebrow. "No one said we'd be meeting with the 9th Cavalry."

"But you're in this valley, so that means you're heading through the Dead Pit, right?" Aelyon replied with a smile. "So… if the 9th Cavalry doesn't succeed in wiping out the enemy, what makes you think you're gonna be able to do that?"

/

Racélia Chrome stepped into the ruined church cautiously, her eyes constantly shifting to take in the entire area. The area had a pretty light aura, indicating that while there _were_ spirits or other entities lingering in this place, none of them were, to say the least, powerful enough for her to consider dangerous.

Yet, that just like the stories she had heard.

Just recently, according to rumours, a group of adventurers had decided to explore the remains of the Sacred Communion Church, which was located several miles north of Yuno's northern gate.

The party had, apparently, numbered eight initially, but only two had returned, severely wounded by what they had called _Blade Master Phantoms_. On normal occasion, Racélia wouldn't bother investigating such a case. She would have labelled it as just a regular paranormal instance and left it to the Yunoan Special Investigations Department to deal with.

But something about the story had struck her. According to the survivors, they had felt no powerful or hostile presences in the area, and amongst one of their fallen companions was an experienced sage who ought to be more sensitive to magical auras. Yet as they ventured further in, they heard a piano playing in the upper levels, possibly in the Sanctuary, and at that instant, it happened.

Multiple phantoms of a swordsman appeared—icy blue silhouettes that appeared right out of thin air, wielding what appeared to be long katanas. The group had fought vigorously, and for awhile, they held their ground, managing to dispatch the phantoms.

But then the song's chorus began to play, and the phantoms reappeared once more, and this time, the adventurers didn't stand a chance. Within moments, five of them had fallen, and of the remaining three, one had had to sacrifice himself, holding off the phantoms, while the other two had escaped.

And he too, fell within seconds. The two survivors had sprinted out of the church, chased relentlessly by the nightmarish phantoms, suffering multiple cuts and other such injuries in the process. And it was only when they had finally made it out of the ruins did the phantoms cease to follow, watching them from a distance. And when the piano's song had finally ended, the phantoms slowly faded away into nothingness.

The story sounded a bit too familiar for Racélia's liking. Two to three years ago, this church was a full building, not shambles and ruins. And amongst the congregation were Racélia and her brother figure, Zemiah, who was also one of the church pianists and guardians.

Racélia remembered Zemiah as a quiet and caring person, though he did not quite manage to convey his feelings and intentions well at times. A bit awkward and clumsy in society, he usually found it hard to make friends.

But with the sword, Zemiah was skilled beyond comprehension. He had fashioned his own style of swordplay; a style which focused on smooth, wide swings and constant movement to build up the power and momentum of each successive blow without suffering the loss of speed and balance that usually came with executing heavy blows; a style he had accurately christened, _Crescendo_.

According to the two survivors of that incident in the church ruins, one of their companions, a skilled member of the Yunoan Elite Guard who had advanced training in shield tactics and techniques, had been brought down by just such a style. In their own words, _'with each strike, the phantoms' power seemed to increase, even to the point where their attacks dented shields and shredded armour.'_

Racélia couldn't say for sure, but that sure sounded like an accurate summary of what _Crescendo_ could do. She ought to know. After all, who else did Zemiah teach besides her? No one, she was sure. He taught no one else that style.

On top of that, there was the piano. Zemiah was a magically talented person as well, for all his skill with the blade. In fact, his physical prowess was a direct result of his magical talent. Having been born with a body gravely weakened by severe asthma, no one had expected Zemiah to grow into a mighty warrior. Yet he had, having unconsciously fed off his own magical power to sustain himself.

It was this trait too, that led Zemiah to do wonderful things with the piano, being a musically inclined person as well. Back before Zemiah had vanished mysteriously two years ago, the two of them had often waited until most of the churchgoers had gone home on Sundays, and then he would take her up to the Sanctuary with him.

Racélia remembered how she danced to his song, closing her eyes as the melody sunk into her soul… and how she had opened her eyes to see visages dancing in the air around her.

Shapes and figures imagined by Zemiah, spawned through his song to dance with her. After all, Racélia was a troubled soul. No one really could understand her, and those who had a chance to never really cared enough to try to. Except her 'brother'.

Dear Zemiah… And he knew that was just the way to calm her soul. To keep her spirit from exploding with grief and sorrow and anger…

Those dancers… were very possibly just what those _Blade Master Phantoms_ were. Illusions born from his music. Illusions which, by his power, could interact with the physical realm.

The entire case sounded too much like Zemiah's doing, and that was why Racélia wanted to investigate this in person… Because she needed to see him. She wanted answers. Answers like why he left her alone.

"Man, you sure are naughty…"

Racélia spun around, her sword leaving its sheath with a threatening ring.

"Who's there?" she called out aggressively, her blade held high. Her eyes swept the area and finally came to rest on a young man seated high atop a stone pillar. He had thick, wavy light red hair and aqua coloured eyes partially hidden behind long fringe.

"Hello, Racélia!" he called out in a jovial manner, waving.

Racélia's eyebrow twitched irritably.

"Yuichi," she growled, none too nicely. "What are you doing here?"

Yuichi leapt off the pillar and landed lightly in front of her with a wry expression.

"I'm here to make sure you don't get turned into minced meat. Haven't you heard of the rumours? This place is dangerous."

"Of course I heard the rumours," Racélia snapped. "Why do you _think_ I'm here?"

"Hmm…" Yuichi intoned thoughtfully. "For nostalgia's sake? This was your church, right?"

"Shut up and go home, Yuichi," Racélia hissed, ignoring his answer. "I don't need you around here."

"But _I_ need myself around here," Yuichi said, smiling weakly. "It's pathetic, but… I kinda owe dear Zemiah a little something, see? I told you when we first met, didn't I?"

Racélia glared at Yuichi for a long moment. Frankly, she did not even know who Yuichi was. He had appeared several months after Zemiah's disappearance, saving her from a band of thugs who had tried to take advantage of her lack of companions when she went looking for Zemiah alone. Introducing himself as one of Zemiah's good friends, Yuichi had offered himself as a kind of bodyguard to her, saying Zemiah had asked that much of him in return for saving his life.

Racélia had accepted his offer at that point in time, realizing that Yuichi might be just who she needed to discover the reasons behind Zemiah's disappearance. But when he refused to reveal anything about Zemiah's last venture, she quickly tired of his presence, and now wanted nothing more than his _absence_, though he would have none of it.

It wasn't that Yuichi was irritating or anything, to be sure. His diligence and persistence could get on one's nerves, put frankly, but he was just so darn polite! Even when people did or said bad things, all he ever did was smile sheepishly and said he thought otherwise, and that he would 'keep their views in mind'.

It drove Racélia nuts; he was humble to the point where he acted like he had no backbone! Yet in battle, Yuichi had proven to be a powerful warrior. He was proficient with quite a number of firearms, and she had never seen him without his signature pistols and shotgun, though she had personally never seen him use his shotgun. His pistols were usually more than enough to keep him alive, after all.

"… Don't get in my way, then," Racélia finally said, scowling darkly.

"Oh, that is such a Zemiah thing to say," Yuichi muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay. Lead on, then, if you won't turn back."

Intoning a sound born of irritation, Racélia turned without a word and continued further into the church. As she walked, she began to grow more and more sceptical of the story. Even up until now, she could feel no change in the air around her, and on top of that, she couldn't hear the piano playing, either.

"Was the story even true?" she wondered aloud as they stepped into the church foyer.

"Well," Yuichi said from behind her, "I don't… wait, hear that?"

Racélia frowned and strained her ears, and, after a moment, she began to be able to make out a tune in the silence. It was a quiet tune… a slow, gentle tune, which had a somewhat nostalgic ring to it…

And it wasn't just because the song was arranged that way, Racélia realized. Zemiah had played this song before.

"Racélia—heads up!" Yuichi shouted warningly as a group of phantoms suddenly materialized in the air around them.

Racélia drew her weapon and turned a full circle, counting the phantoms. There were seven of them, faceless figures which seemed to be made up of wisps of blue light.

_Just like the dancers…_

The seven figures raised their left hands in unison, and as wisps of energy gathered around those hands to become blades, Racélia noted the growing tension in the air around them.

The one closest to Racélia twirled its blade and adopted a low stance, raising its katana to eye-level aiming its blade forward at her. A fresh wave of energy radiated forth from the phantom.

"I'm getting a pang of nostalgia from this aura…" Racélia grunted, her voice dripping with irony.

"You sure it's not just the music?"

"… Shut up."

As Racélia and Yuichi faced off against the phantoms, the song began to grow louder, and as the playing became heavier, the phantoms moved, their weapons held high.

Racélia leapt evasively over the first phantom which attacked her, lashing out at its shoulder, but the phantom bent low, evading her attack.

Then another phantom leapt forward, lashing out at her aggressively. She deflected the phantom's attack and leapt backwards—and found herself being rushed by yet another two phantoms.

"Racélia, get clear!" Yuichi shouted.

Racélia wasted no time in leaping high into the air. A torrent of angry noise split the air a moment later as Yuichi let loose a volley of pistol shots at the two phantoms which had just tried to corner her.

Both phantoms spun around, working their blades skilfully to deflect the gunfire. High above them, Racélia executed a back-flip to land on the second floor landing. There, she watched as Yuichi executed a series of acrobatic manoeuvres which kept him out of his pursuers' range while presenting him more than ample opportunities to send bullets flying their way.

Racélia took a deep breath and prepared to rush to his aid, but one of the phantoms suddenly came to a halt, as if it realized something, and its faceless head turned towards her. Racélia gulped as the phantom drew back its weapon—and then hurled it at her.

Instinctively, Racélia brought her blade up to deflect the weapon. The force of the flying weapon was enough to throw her off-balance, forcing her to execute a back-flip to avoid falling flat on her back.

As Racélia recovered from the back-flip and looked up, wisps of energy converged on the airborne blade she had just deflected, and the phantom materialized in the air above her, lashing at her with its blade.

Racélia raised her weapon in defence—but found she did not have to; Yuichi appeared before her, crossing his pistols over his head to catch the attack.

"Racélia, let's get out of here!" he shouted, his knees almost buckling under the force of his opponent's blow.

"But…"

"We'll die if we stay here! Let's go!"

Racélia began to protest, but the song grew ever heavier, and she realized it had arrived at its chorus. An unnatural blue mist suddenly fell upon the church, and Racélia stared, horrified, as more phantoms stepped out of the fog.

"Racélia!"

Racélia gritted her teeth.

_Damn it…_

/

Early the next morning, Lune awoke to find that, with the exception of Rylaira, the rest of the party was, strangely, missing from the campsite. Lune got up with a loud yawn which alerted Rylaira, who looked up from the book she was reading to greet Lune silently with a small smile.

Lune smiled back, and then quickly folded her blanket and mat, eager to look for Xetil. Her friend rarely woke up so early in the morning, and even when he did, he would usually devote the time to polishing his cherished blade.

That he was downright absent from the campsite… it was a rare instance.

Lune stood back and examined her folded mat and blanket, nodding with satisfaction, and then flashed another smile at Rylaira.

"Hey, I'm gonna look for Xetil, okay?"

Rylaira looked up from her book and nodded.

"Sure," she said. "I think he's in the clearing to the south with Tyferia."

"Oh…" Lune intoned, blinking in surprise. _He's with Tyferia…?_

Rylaira noted her expression and chuckled.

"I think he wants Tyferia to teach him a few sword tricks."

"Uh… okay," Lune mumbled. Now, wasn't that just like Xetil?

She nodded her thanks and made her way into the foliage, trying to remember exactly where the clearing Rylaira had indicated was. Over the years, countless clearings have appeared within the jungles of Mjolnir Mountain as a result of travellers constantly reusing their old campsites each time they travelled through the region.

The clearing to the south was, Lune recalled, a rather big one, which Tyferia had decided not to use as a campsite due to its large size, as it would play to the _Libertas_'s advantage, owing to their use of firearms.

After several long moments, Lune finally found herself at the edge of that large clearing. As Rylaira had said, Xetil _was_ with Tyferia. However, he didn't seem like he was learning any tricks from the older swordsman. The two were, to say the least, sparring.

Lune watched with interest as Xetil pressed forward, lashing out at Tyferia rapidly in a flurry of diagonal slashes, each of which Tyferia easily evaded or turned aside with subtle movements of his body and blade.

Simply by watching, Lune could tell that Xetil was downright outclassed by the more refined Tyferia, who, despite facing the frenzy of strokes Xetil rained upon him, remained totally unfazed.

The counter-attack came all too suddenly, when Tyferia suddenly stepped forward and caught one of Xetil's attacks wholly with his blade. Xetil's eyes widened in surprise, but before he could do so much as gasp, Tyferia had pushed him back violently.

Tyferia lashed out at Xetil, his blade alight with a sapphire glow. Xetil blocked the attack, but staggered—and Tyferia lashed again, and again, and yet again…

… Until a single upwards slash disarmed Xetil and sent him flying backwards to land unceremoniously on the ground.

However, the sparring session did not end there; Tyferia leapt forward aggressively, twirling his blade within his left hand and slicing down at Xetil. Xetil wasted no time in rolling to the side in evasion and leaping for his sword, spinning around to catch Tyferia's next attack an instant before Tyferia's blade would have scored a blow.

Lune watched, somewhat surprised at the deadly earnest. Had Xetil not managed that deflection, Tyferia's attack would definitely have killed him!

But something about the way Tyferia held himself made Lune suddenly sure that he knew a hundred percent what he was doing. He wouldn't kill or even hurt Xetil, no matter how real the match seemed.

Xetil seemed to know that as well, for he made no indignant remark at Tyferia's ferocity. Instead, Xetil's emerald eyes were burning with an intensity Lune had never quite seen in him before, as if in challenge against Tyferia's icy elegance.

And that, for the first time in a long time, prompted Lune to examine Xetil's appearance. He had grown quite a bit since the last time she actually bothered taking note of his looks, having developed into a much leaner and taller person than he once was. His face had also taken on a more mature look; it was no longer the young, boyish face Lune had seen cry in the many years she had known it. Now, it was, to put bluntly, a handsome face which would have downright turned her knees to jelly had she not known the irritating attitude behind it.

The only of Xetil's features which _hadn't_ changed, though, were his emerald green eyes and spiky, flame-coloured hair. The two colours contrasted sharply with each other, giving him a striking appearance. But, they weren't as startling as they were attractive. Lune remembered that they were the trademark features of the Fades family. The first time she met Xetil, she remembered leaning in close to Xetil, peering into his eyes in amazement at his distinctive eye colour.

Back, then, she had been too young to understand that that proximity between them was inappropriate. She had leaned in so close; close enough, she remembered, to kiss.

The thought brought a shade of red to her face, and she quickly turned away from the sparring session, heading toward the general direction of the campsite.

What was _that_ about? She had convinced herself a long time ago that a playboy such as Xetil Fades was beneath her notice. Besides, he couldn't match up to Xilos…

_Xilos…_

Lune felt a pang in her heart as the name echoed in her mind, and she bit her lower lip, feeling the tears well up in her eyes. It's true, she decided in her heart. Xetil couldn't match up to Xilos…

In any way…

"Hey there, cutie."

Startled, Lune jerked and spun around to see Aelyon approaching her. Aelyon raised a hand in greeting, but his smile faded as he noticed her tearful eyes. He watched as a droplet leaked from the corner of her left eye and rolled down her cheek, and frowned.

"Oh…?" he murmured, his eyes narrowing. "Did someone make my cute lady cry…?"

"_Your_ lady?" Lune hissed, offended. "_Cute_…?"

"Well, I was gonna call you pretty," Aelyon said,, lazily stepping toward her, as if the statement were self-explanatory, "but I thought 'pretty' suited the graceful Rylaira more. Not that you're lacking in beauty at all. You're in a league of your own."

"What are you playing at?" Lune asked suspiciously, clenching her fists.

"Nothing," Aelyon replied sarcastically. "I'm just… concerned. Why are you crying?"

"That's none of your business."

"Come now, you can tell me."

"I said—h-hey, let me go!"

Aelyon had suddenly lunged forward and grasped her wrist, preventing her from turning and walking away.

"As I said," Aelyon murmured softly. "I'm just concerned. Tell me."

This close to Aelyon, Lune realized that his narrow eyes were crimson-coloured, like blood. The sight was bone-chilling, but so was his touch. It was a soft but firm grip, yet it was somehow repulsive.

"Let me go," Lune said slowly, warningly.

"Or what?" Aelyon challenged.

"Just… let me go," Lune repeated in a growl.

"How about you give me something first?"

Lune glared at him incredulously. What could he possibly be after?

"Look, it's not funny anymore…"

"Was it ever funny? Was it _supposed_ to be funny?"

"Aelyon…"

Lune gasped as she felt her back hit a tree, having been backed up against it by Aelyon. She tried to wrench her arm free of his grasp, but his grip was vice-like.

"Aelyon," Lune snarled, "let me go _now_."

"Make me," Aelyon whispered suggestively with a wide grin. Lune felt him place his free hand on her hip, and she quickly caught it by the wrist, stopping it from advancing up her torso.

"Aelyon, if you don't stop, I'll report this to the High Disciplinary Council when we get back to Prontera," Lune threatened.

"What, you're gonna court-martial me?"

"For sexual harassment, yes."

"Oh, really? But I haven't done anything yet," Aelyon answered smugly. He leaned down so his lips hovered a mere inch over her neck, and continued, "Unless you're willing to let me have my way a bit more…"

"Aelyon, I'm serious!" Lune shouted, pushing him back to glare right at him.

Aelyon was taken aback for a moment, and then, with a sigh, he released her and backed away.

"Apologies, my lady," he said softly, and suddenly, his snide, lewd persona disappeared, apparently reverting back to his calmer, less provocative attitude. "I merely wanted to get your mind off whatever made you cry."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Lune hissed. "Well, whatever the case, you succeeded—and then you gave me something else to cry about."

"I was unaware that you were so—forgive me for my saying this—sensitive."

"Any girl would be appalled to be treated in like manner by a man they hardly even know," Lune shot back at him.

"I'm sorry. Perhaps we should get to know each other better, then."

_Is he still making advances?_

"… No, thank you," Lune replied spitefully. "You've crossed the line. Don't you dare touch me again in future."

Aelyon bowed slightly in mock respect, and Lune turned away from him, still fuming on the inside. She arrived moments later at the campsite and sat down next to her folded mat and blanket without even greeting Rylaira, who frowned at her.

"Lune?"

"… Leave me alone for a moment, please."

Rylaira tilted her head quizzically to one side, and then turned as Aelyon stepped into the clearing as well. She watched him in a somewhat suspicious manner for a long moment until he finally settled down next to his borrowed mat.

Lune figured Rylaira somehow could sense the tension between the two of them, yet that was the least of her concerns right then.

Right then, all Lune wanted to do was to get the feel of Aelyon's breath off the side of her neck. It felt almost like the breath of a vampire preparing to taste its next victim: sinister yet sensual.

And Lune had almost, just almost, wanted to feel his bite.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Whew, this wasn't an easy chapter to write, but either way…

This chapter highlights implications of _me_! Yeah! Okay, really, ha-ha, for those of you who have read my stories before, you probably know I like creating a character mirroring myself in my stories! But let's put that aside for now.

_Note: Actually, a lot of my characters mirror people from real life…_

This chapter introduces two new characters: Racélia—whom you won't know yet—and Yuichi—who you _somewhat_ know. I mean, hey, he's one of the reviewers! But yeah, you get the idea. Not like you really know him as a person, but… enough of the ranting.

A fun fact to note is that this is the first chapter where Xetil's appearance is actually described, unless I'm much mistaken and my memory is failing me.

But I think for most, the highlight of this chapter would be Aelyon's interaction with Lune at the ending. I'm sure quite some of you would find that quite unexpected, but then again, first impressions of people rarely strike truth.

Of course, this doesn't mean you'll be free to make your assumptions of the characters and say, "for sure", hah! The characters have all only reached, I would say at most, four, maybe five percent of their character development?

There's no exact way to calculate, so the figures might be a bit exaggerated, but either way, expect more to come soon!

On to the reviewers…

**Ai:** Hah, it wasn't quite a mistake. A bit technical, but I explained to you privately already, right? So that's all fine, aha! As for the speed in terms of fighting, yeah, fight scenes are usually nicer if written in a fast-paced manner, or at least in my opinion. It keeps it coming quickly, and dragged-out fight scenes… well, they just lose the feel, I think. So for me, unless the fight scene has some sentimental or emotional backdrop to it (think fateful fights between brothers or something), it's usually better to keep the pace up. But I might try different styles to make it less monotonous.

**JenEvan:** New reviewer! Or… unless you're just using a different name this time, hah. But either way, yeah, I was just thinking about how a ninja would view life, how they lived to fight and all. But also, you'll find that as you read on, not all ninjas in my story would act that way. Why? You'll find out, hah!

**Yuichi:** Better late than never! Like me! Oh, man… I'm _late_.

And… yeah, school's starting again soon, but… well, it's back to waiting again. Damn. But either way… I hope for more reviews this time!

_Signing off,_

- Zemiah Dyterra


	9. Chapter 8

_**Chapter 8**_

It was one-sided; _totally_ one-sided.

Even past forty minutes into their sparring session, Xetil had yet to discern exactly what he had wanted to gain out of that suicidal decision to ask Tyferia to spar with him.

That Yunoan had defeated the Baphomet: a demon said to have been able to single-handedly destroy an army of three thousand well-trained warriors over a period of three hours.

That makes for one thousand per hour.

Yet Tyferia bested that monster one-on-one somehow, without the use of underhanded, cheap tactics such as illusions or traps. He merely met the Baphomet head-on, challenging it with raw skill and power.

And Xetil had, for some odd reason—which could possibly be no reason at all—had asked for a match with someone of that combat ability.

It was suicide. Plain, simple suicide.

Maybe he really subconsciously meant it as just a form of training, though. Tyferia certainly seems to think that that was Xetil's idea, for he had adjusted his speed and strength to match that of Xetil's, effectively making it a contest of pure technique and skill.

Despite the fact that Tyferia's speed and strength now somewhat matched Xetil's, however, Xetil had not even managed to floor his opponent once. Tyferia's reflexes were, so to speak, inhuman. It was considered normal for officer-level warriors in the military to possess reaction times enabling them to block even rifle shots, but Tyferia was at a totally different level.

The way he moved made Xetil certain that he could deflect a burst from the new rapid-fire guns Einbroch had recently began to manufacture: the notorious chain guns, heavy, multi-barrelled guns which were initially meant to be used as stationary gun emplacements on a defensive line. Of course, some gunners had gone as far as to wield it as hand-carried weapons, but…

Xetil wrenched his mind back to the present as Tyferia suddenly cancelled a slash in favour of launching a high turning kick at Xetil's right shoulder. Ducking under the kick, Xetil spun about and lashed out at his opponent.

Xetil stopped his blade an instant before it would've hit Tyferia's neck, a small grin forming on his face as he claimed his first victory—but it was all in vain; Tyferia had stepped back before Xetil had even initiated his counter, effectively putting him out of range.

Grunting in frustration, Xetil shuffled his feet backwards to open a three metre distance between them. Tyferia watched him calmly, twirling his katana in his left hand slowly without a word.

For a long moment, neither warrior moved. This was absurd. Even if Tyferia had slackened his speed and power, he didn't seem to have done the same for his reaction time. It felt like Xetil was fighting someone whom he ought to be able to beat—or at least match evenly—but, try as he might, he was not getting anywhere near that.

Frustrating.

"Are you not going to attack?" Tyferia asked softly.

"Such an obvious trap… What idiot would dare make a move?" Xetil retorted, subtly following the spinning katana with his eyes.

Tyferia sighed.

"There is no trap here," he said calmly. "And even if there were, is it wise to not move simply because it exists?"

"Why not?"

"Because no one knows when the trap would be removed… except by the person laying it."

Xetil barely had time to register Tyferia's words—when the katana's spin slowed drastically. Before Xetil could really comprehend what was happening, Tyferia had closed the distance between them, his katana lashing upwards to knock aside Xetil's defending blade.

Spinning about, Xetil regained his balance and raised his weapon. Tyferia struck repeatedly, each blow designed to knock his target's defences to the side, opening him up for the following move. It was all Xetil could do to bring his blade up after every deflection.

After forty minutes of sparring, Xetil had come to learn several things about Tyferia's sword style. Firstly, Tyferia's offence seemed to be based on fast-paced attack combinations ranging anywhere between four to eight strikes, and each of these combinations ended with a powerful attack which could potentially send him flying.

Secondly, Tyferia's finishers were all single strikes, contrary to his apparent preference for combinations. Throughout the sparring session, Tyferia had already stopped his blade mere instants before it would have struck Xetil, claiming victories. And each of those victories was claimed with singular, precise slashes disconnected from his other attacks.

Thirdly, Tyferia seemed to be ambidextrous. Or at least, he could fight with both hands. While his left hand apparently possessed more strength, Tyferia was more than capable of wielding his weapon right-handed. On several occasions already, Tyferia would drop his weapon and catch it with his other hand, lashing out from unexpected angles. It seemed his predominant hand in combat was his left hand, though.

But putting all that aside, something else bothered Xetil. There was something which didn't quite sit right about how Tyferia used that katana…

Xetil raised his blade again as Tyferia's blade lashed out at him one final time, knocking him backwards violently. Flipping over with the force of the attack, Xetil reversed his motion and rushed at Tyferia, his blade held high.

Tyferia rotated his blade deftly and angled it at Xetil's neck, slashing outwards horizontally. But Xetil saw through the move and slid beneath it, coming up behind Tyferia…

… And found Tyferia's left heel with his chin.

Xetil was thrown onto his back, his chin searing with pain. Shaking his head to clear it of stars, Xetil sat up and massaged his chin, working his jaw testily to ensure that it wasn't dislocated.

"Ugh… that kind of sucked," he mumbled, rubbing his chin gingerly.

"You rush openings too hastily," Tyferia said grimly as he walked over to Xetil. "That move was not intended to be a trap. The slash was meant to hit. But it is always prudent to think of a countermeasure should your manoeuvre fail. That kick seemed the most convenient countermeasure."

"Yeah, okay," Xetil replied, not quite listening. "But still, meant to hit, huh? With me running that way and you slashing at that speed, if I hadn't slid under it, it would've cut my head clean off. Isn't this a sparring match rather than a death match?"

Tyferia sighed.

"Of course it is," he said, as if it were perfectly obvious.

"Right. Convince me next time," Xetil grumbled. He got up, sheathed his weapon, and began dusting himself off. Even as he did so, he stole a glance at Tyferia and asked, "Why do you use that sword?"

"Every swordsman has a weapon, does he not?" Tyferia replied simply.

"No, I mean, your style," Xetil said with a frown. "You use swinging attacks more than deft slashes. Katanas are cutting weapons which are rarely used for heavy swinging or cleaving. Users of the katana usually seek a way around their opponent's defence, but you just break open an opponent's defence by slashing aside their weapon."

"… So I do. What of it?"

"It just strikes me as odd that a swordsman of your calibre would use a weapon unsuited to his style," Xetil replied with a frown.

"Oh? So what weapon am I suited for, then?"

Xetil opened his mouth to reply, but then paused. That's right. What weapon suited him? A broad sword, perhaps?

But it couldn't be. Tyferia's sword swinging did not quite suit a heavy weapon for some reason. Besides, a good few of the moves Tyferia used were one-handed strikes, and on top of that, in several of his attack patterns, Tyferia stringed short slashes or jabs rapidly. No matter how strong one was, a broad sword's weight proportions between its blade and hilt did not provide sufficient balance for such moves.

Tyferia's true weapon, Xetil guessed, was probably somewhat heavier than the katana, but as balanced as it was. No matter his reason for choosing not to use his real weapon, the only possible reason Xetil could think up for why Tyferia substituted it with a katana was that Tyferia was not willing to sacrifice his weapon's balance.

Tyferia smiled slightly as he watched Xetil think.

"You're right to say my style does not quite suit the katana," he said quietly. "The katana is too light, and its grip is… quite different."

Xetil tilted his head, not quite grasping Tyferia's meaning. But Tyferia did not seem interested in entertaining his curiosity, and instead, held up his katana to examine it.

"Such an elegant blade, yet… not quite as elegant as my own," the Yunoan murmured in a cryptic manner. Sheathing the katana, Tyferia turned to Xetil and said, "Let's return to the rest. We should move soon."

/

As the afternoon came and wore on, heavy clouds began to gather in the sky above the group, and, soon enough, large raindrops began to fall.

For a few moments, the group simply put on their cloaks and pulled up their hoods, continuing on while paying no heed to the rain. And then Lune let out a startled gasp.

"A-ah, my hand!" she cried, making a wringing motion with her right hand. Xetil started to move toward her, concerned, but Aelyon got to Lune before he did.

"Give me your hand," he instructed Lune. Lune seemed to hesitate, but before she could say anything, Aelyon grasped her hand and held it close to his face, examining it.

A sudden discomfort arose in Xetil as he watched Aelyon stroking the back of Lune's hand. To his eyes, Lune was trying to pull away subtly.

Or perhaps he was just jealous?

The thought struck, and Xetil quickly turned it aside with a mental huff. Jealous over Lune? Like that could happen. She was nothing more than just a good friend he had known since childhood, right?

But the unease did not go away. Still, Xetil acted as if nothing were bothering him, and watched as Aelyon straightened up and released Lune's hand.

"Acid," he announced grimly. "Some of these raindrops are acidic."

"Acid," Tyferia echoed, turning about. The Yunoan looked up into the sky as thunder rumbled overhead, and sighed. "We're closer to the Dead Pit than I thought, then."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lune asked, rubbing the raw skin at the back of her right hand with a wince. "Isn't the Dead Pit just a huge crater which houses the northern door to the Mjolnir Mines?"

"It was. But now, the Dead Pit is a gathering area of dark energy which contaminates the air around it, giving birth to acidic rain," Rylaira spoke up to explain. "The Dead Pit was once as you said, and contained only a few kinds of monsters, namely thief bugs, dustinesses and stem worms. However…"

Rylaira trailed off with a troubled expression, and, with a sigh, Tyferia continued for her, "However, several years ago, an unconfirmed phenomenon occurred within the Dead Pit."

"What phenomenon?" Xetil asked curiously.

"Mysterious deaths," Tyferia replied darkly. "Miners began to go missing, one by one, and those that were found later were dead. According to reports, these miners acted strangely and began talking about a certain woman in the mines several days before vanishing. There were no women miners, though, so…"

"An evil spirit?" Aelyon suggested.

"Quite likely," Tyferia agreed with a nod.

"Hmm… you said unconfirmed…" Xetil said sharply. "What does that mean?"

"After the remaining miners were evacuated, Yuno dispatched a SIDE operative to investigate the matter, however…"

"SIDE?" Lune cut in.

"Yuno's Special Investigations Department," Rylaira explained.

"Isn't that the autonomous elite division of the Yunoan special forces?" Aelyon asked, startled.

"Yes, it is," Tyferia said. "Although classified as an investigative unit, SIDE is actually a group of Yuno's most elite warriors, reserved for high priority and high risk missions of all kinds. It is said that no SIDE operative has ever been defeated by a human, with the exception of fellow SIDE operatives."

"So what happened to this guy, the one who was sent to the pit?" Xetil asked.

"He didn't return," Tyferia replied simply. "He, too, disappeared. Ever since then, the Dead Pit has began to pulsate with dark powers, drawing in all kinds of evil spirits and monsters."

"Crude," Xetil muttered, shaking his head. If SIDE really contained warriors of that calibre, then whatever had caused all those problems must be quite the demon...

"Do you have any idea what kind of evil spirit caused all that?" Lune asked uncertainly. "I mean, we'll be going through that place, right? So, seeing as it might appear… it might help if we know what we're up against."

Tyferia did not answer for a long moment. When he finally spoke, he merely said, "Let's carry on."

The group travelled in silence for a long moment. Tyferia's reaction was a bit suspicious to Xetil. It felt as if the Yunoan knew exactly what had haunted the Dead Pit and transformed it into—if what Rylaira said was true—a gathering point of dark energy.

Xetil's flow of thoughts slowly faded, though, as he became increasingly aware of a presence beside him.

"Lune?" he murmured, turning to look at her as they walked. Lune sidled closer to him, her cloak wrapped tightly about her body. Curious of his friend's strange movements, Xetil asked, "What's wrong? You spooked out by Tyferia's story?"

"… No," Lune replied, not quite meeting Xetil's eye. "Just… what do you think of Aelyon?"

Xetil was taken aback, but he recovered quickly. Shooting a glance at Aelyon, who was following several paces behind, he asked Lune a low voice, "Why the sudden question?"

"I… don't like him," Lune muttered stiffly.

"Why not?" Xetil asked, trying his best to be impartial. He didn't really like Aelyon either, but still… maybe he just didn't know the guy, right? Deciding that that was a likely case, Xetil said, "Well, I think he's a fine guy. He's polite and chivalrous and all, right? Plus, we fought evenly in our first meeting, so I think he'll be a reliable guy in combat. All in all, I think he's good."

Lune did not seem convinced, though, and murmured, "You really think so…?"

"Hmm…" Xetil intoned thoughtfully. "Well, personally…"

The leaves to Xetil's left rustled. Several metres ahead, Tyferia stopped dead in his tracks, his head tilted, as if listening. For a long moment, no one moved.

And then Tyferia's blade snaked out to deflect a bullet speeding for Rylaira's face. Rylaira did not even flinch as sparks from the deflection showered her clothes, totally confident of her protective companion.

An instant later, every member of the party, save for Rylaira, had their weapons drawn, and, within moments, the path before and behind them was filled with warriors bearing the emblem of the _Libertas_ guild.

"An ambush," Aelyon growled savagely somewhere behind Xetil. "Such an underhanded tactic… How befitting of cowards."

"Be silent," Tyferia said without turning around. "Your blade is your weapon, not your tongue. Such hypocritical statements are not befitting of a soldier."

Aelyon gritted his teeth and made an indignant sound, and Xetil was certain Lune let out a satisfied-sounding huff, as if to say Aelyon deserved the remark.

Xetil turned his attention back to the battle, glancing over his shoulder once to ascertain the threat from behind. Ahead of him, Tyferia and Rylaira faced approximately thirty soldiers, of which at least half carried guns of various sorts. Behind him, Aelyon faced a force numbering about half of what Tyferia and Rylaira faced.

However, Xetil had witnessed Tyferia's combat prowess first-hand. Tyferia would be able to handle himself, even if he had to protect Rylaira in the process.

Xetil turned to back Aelyon up, but to his surprise, Lune adamantly remained facing the same direction as Tyferia and Rylaira.

He didn't have time to question her about it, though; the battle started without warning, with lead flying through the air everywhere.

As expected, Tyferia drew first blood, ricocheting a bullet with a precise parry into an approaching soldier's left eye. The soldier tumbled to the ground next to Tyferia as a second soldier stepped up to engage the Yunoan sword-to-sword.

Behind Tyferia, Rylaira raised one hand and fired a lance of orange-red light over her companion's shoulder. The beam drilled right through a rifleman's chest in an instant, and the _Libertas_ warrior dropped to the ground, dead.

Meanwhile, Xetil moved towards the soldiers approaching from behind. A good few of them were using rifles, but, by alternating their fire, they managed to keep up a steady stream of bullets heading Aelyon's way. Aelyon proved to be a capable defender, though, and managed to block each shot that came at him. However, he could not advance against the rain of lead.

Xetil, however, could.

Xetil leapt over Aelyon, deflecting a few bullets as he landed, and, now relieved of having to defend a successive stream of shots, Aelyon rushed forward as well.

The riflemen began to shoot frantically, now faced with two mobile warriors. Xetil targeted a group of four gunners, huddled tightly together. As he approached, their fire became more rapid but less accurate.

"Reloading!" one of the gunners cried. An instant later, another of the four shouted the same thing. It was thus no wonder that one of the remaining two gunners decided that that was the best time to retreat. He broke formation and fled for his life.

Bad move.

Leaping high into the air, Xetil landed behind the three gunners still in formation and lashed out at the escaping gunner, slicing him across the back.

The other three gunners spun about, and one of the two who were reloading stabbed at Xetil with his bayonet, which was mounted on his gun's barrel.

Xetil sliced the gun's barrel clean into two, relieving it of its purpose, and then proceeded to behead the only gunner who still had bullets in his current clip.

The last gunner who posed a substantial amount of threat finished reloading his gun and targeted Xetil, but as he fired, Xetil grabbed the other survivor, who was still staring at his now-useless gun, by the scruff of his collar and hauled him up, using him as a meat shield.

The stunned soldier barely had time to realize what was happening before friendly fire was committed, and he went limp in Xetil's grip.

Xetil pushed the corpse violently at the last survivor of the group, hoping to knock him off balance, but this gunner reacted quickly, dodging to the side and firing another shot.

Although Xetil could not deflect gunfire in a decisive direction like Tyferia could, Xetil was, at least, capable of defending against it like Aelyon, and his blade wind-milled before him, striking the bullet out of the air.

Stepping forward, Xetil lashed out at the gunner, successfully knocking the rifle from his grip. The man then ducked under Xetil's next move, quickly removing the bayonet from one of his fallen comrade's rifles and grasping the broken, disembodied barrel of another one of his fallen comrade's gun.

He then dived away from Xetil's next attack, a vertical downward stroke, and spun about, twirling his improvised weapons skilfully.

It was then that Xetil realized: this guy wasn't primarily a gunner.

The man stepped forward, lashing out at Xetil with a series of quick slashes and jabs. Xetil deflected a few strokes and dodged the rest, then countered with an attack of his own.

His opponent turned aside his slash and attempted to counter, but Xetil cut the move short, rotating his wrists to swing his blade downwards defensively.

The man's blade was deflected—but he spun about and struck with his other weapon, almost managing to stab Xetil in his left shoulder.

But Xetil dropped to one knee, allowing the stab to go over his shoulder instead, and then suddenly stood up, his shoulder slamming into the man's armpit. Swinging his left arm behind his opponent's back, Xetil caught a hold of his opponent's collar and tugged downwards sharply, his left leg sweeping downwards to knock his opponent's foot out from beneath him.

The grapple was executed perfectly; the _Libertas_ soldier fell to the ground with a startled gasp, and could only watch as Xetil's blade entered his right lung, ending his life.

Spinning about, Xetil sought for a new target, and found it in a gunner perched within the trees, his scoped rifle zeroed in on Lune, who had not even moved from where Xetil had left her. She was picking her targets carefully with her bow, eliminating them one by one.

But apparently, she had not taken into account the fact that someone on the opposing side might have done the same thing and picked a specific target: her.

"Lune!" Xetil shouted warningly.

Lune jerked, surprised—and the shot tore through her right shoulder. Lune's voice sounded sharply as the shot ripped through skin and flesh, knocking the archer backwards.

Letting out a cry which promised vengeance, Xetil rushed forward. But he didn't have to. From the ground, Lune reached for her reserve crossbow with her left hand, drawing the small bow-gun from the holster on her thigh.

She let loose the four-inch bolt, and it slammed decisively into the marksman's throat, knocking him out of the tree.

Xetil fell to his knees beside Lune as he ran up to her, dropping his sword as he frantically sought some fabric to staunch the bleeding.

"I'm fine," Lune grunted as he emptied a small vial of sweet-smelling, viscous liquid onto the wound. Lune winced and slapped his hand away. "A-ah! Are you insane? You can't heal my wound with the bullet still in there!"

"It's just a red potion, okay?" Xetil shot back. "It's just to stop the bleeding."

Lune quietened down—but not for long.

"Xetil, behind!"

Xetil spun about instantly, instinctively tossing the empty vial forcefully skyward. The vial struck the face of a large, axe-wielding warrior who was standing over them, his weapon raised.

Bellowing in surprise, the man staggered back, lowering his weapon in favour of clawing at his face, which was now lined with small, shallow cuts from the vial, which had shattered on impact.

Letting out a roar, Xetil slashed at the man. The man recovered his senses and deflected Xetil's first attack easily. He back-pedalled to gain some distance, then reared back and swung heavily at Xetil.

The attack was blocked, but it still blew Xetil off his feet. Xetil landed heavily on the ground, winded, and struggled to get up as the axe-wielding man moved forward to claim his victory.

"Xetil!" Lune cried out in horror. She scrambled to her knees and strung an arrow in her bow, but as she drew back the string, a fresh flow of blood spurted forth from her shoulder wound, and the arrow fell to the ground.

"Xetil!" Lune cried out again in despair, gripping her shoulder.

The _Libertas_ warrior sneered at Lune and stood over Xetil, his weapon raised—and Rylaira flew over Xetil's fallen frame, enveloped within a faint, violet bubble.

The bubble collided with the large man and blasted him backwards, away from Xetil. Rylaira landed lightly before Xetil in an almost weightless manner and turned to glance at him.

"Protect Lune. I'll be fine on my own," she instructed.

Xetil nodded mutely, and, despite the fact that he still could not quite breathe properly, he stumbled over to Lune, standing protectively over her.

Rylaira watched calmly as the axe-wielder recovered, and raised her right hand in preparation.

"That was some interesting magic," the man remarked, spitting a mixture of blood and saliva from his mouth.

"Would you like to see more?" Rylaira asked sweetly with a casual smile. There was no sense of enmity in her gesture or voice, but the glowing orb of energy which had just appeared in Rylaira's hand was more than enough to make anyone certain that she would show him more regardless of his answer.

"Hah," the man snarled. "I'll knock that attitude right out of you when I have you stripped down and begging to keep your purity, chick!"

He lunged forward aggressively—and a lance of violet energy struck his face, knocking him backwards mercilessly. Even before his back struck the ground, his eyes glazed over with lifelessness, and the breath that left his body as it hit the floor was his last.

"Sorry," Rylaira spoke softly, "but I seem to have had my purity stolen awhile ago already."

Xetil frowned at Rylaira's words. Did that mean…

"Xetil," Xetil's chain of thought was interrupted by Lune, who was now on her feet. She nodded to show that she was fine, and said, "I'm alright now. Go help the rest. I'll stick close to Rylaira."

Xetil looked her up and down, and, realizing that she had drawn her short sword and was wielding it left-handed, he nodded. At least she would be able to defend herself.

Xetil glanced at Aelyon. Most of the soldiers around him were already dead, and Rylaira was moving to help him out.

_Right, then I'll go help Tyferia,_ he thought.

He turned and headed towards Tyferia, who was engaged in battle with a dozen or so _Libertas_ soldiers. Apparently, judging from the number of corpses in the area, there were far more soldiers than he had initially thought.

But that was weird. There were too many soldiers for this to have been a normal ambush, and on top of that, no tactician would launch an ambush in such a lopsided manner, with so much more manpower on one side of the target as compared to the other.

Additionally, the path was a bit too narrow for it to be an ambush, even if the large number of warriors participating in the operation was for the sake of wiping out a large force.

It didn't sit right with Xetil, but he should concentrate on helping Tyferia for now.

But he slowed as Tyferia struck down yet another warrior and raised his blade high. His weapon flashed a brilliant blue, and a large beam extended forth from the tip of his sword, effectively elongating his blade to a length of approximately five metres.

The four remaining soldiers gaped, wide-eyed, at the blade of pure energy, and even as they scattered, Tyferia brought the attack down on them. The beam struck the ground—and for a moment, Xetil's vision became a plane of white.

And then the plane of white slowly dissolved, and Xetil was staring at a metre-deep, metre-wide trench in the ground where Tyferia's attack had landed. The four soldiers who were struck by it had been blasted in different directions, and their corpses lay indiscernible amongst that of their comrades.

But, at the very least, no one would deny it. They were corpses. No one had survived that attack.

What troubled Xetil was the fact that he had no idea what attack that was. Even though he was aware that Tyferia very likely only used personal variants of various special techniques, he should at least be able to identify that move.

But he couldn't. Could such a move even exist? Tyferia executed it in less than two seconds, and he had omitted announcing its name. Although, of course, the announcement of a skill's name was merely a psychological boost for the user, but still… It had created a bloody trench.

Tyferia studied the surroundings with a keen gaze, and then calmly sheathed his katana. He turned to look at Lune, and said, "Lune, is your arm fine?"

Lune nodded mutely as Rylaira moved to tend to her shoulder. Apparently, she too, was shocked by Tyferia's attack.

But it was Aelyon who spoke first.

"What… was that?" he let out breathlessly, his eyes wild with wonder. Walking up to Tyferia excitedly with quick steps, he asked again, "What attack was that? Is it your signature move or something? Perhaps an extreme strain of some skill? Can you teach—"

"Silence," Tyferia murmured, shaking his head as if exasperated. "It is not something that is teachable. Nor is it something I would teach anyone, even if it were."

"Why?" Aelyon asked persistently. "Don't you get it? That skill's range and power… and the speed of execution… If we had just a number of warriors equipped with that kind of efficiency, imagine the tactical advantage we would have in large scale battles and wars!"

Xetil frowned. The Aelyon in front of him seemed power-hungry and ambitious, not composed and polite. And that aside… Xetil was sure that the skill's range, speed and power were not traits of the skill itself, but traits of its user.

It was Tyferia who was strong, fast and capable of maintaining the energy flow to achieve that range. It wasn't just the skill. But Aelyon didn't seem able to comprehend that.

"… Fool," Tyferia murmured, turning away from Aelyon. "It is precisely for that reason that I would not teach it to anyone even if I could."

Aelyon took a step back, startled.

"What?"

"A skill of that calibre…" Tyferia said softly, "Would you not hesitate to use it?"

Aelyon shook his head firmly and replied, "Skills are like weapons. They exist to be used, right?"

Tyferia turned and stared at Aelyon for a long, long moment, and then sighed and shook his head.

"I despise you," he whispered, "you who hold little regard for life."

With that, Tyferia stepped past Aelyon to check on Lune. Xetil, too, started for Lune, but as he did so, he spared one glance at Aelyon.

Aelyon's fists were clenched, and his teeth were gritted. Xetil couldn't be sure, but he felt that it seemed like Aelyon was going to do _anything_ to learn how to execute that skill.

And with that thought came a sensation of intense unease.

**Glossary**

_YG-SIDE_

_(Yunoan Guard: Special Investigations Department)_

While its name implies that it is an investigative unit, SIDE is, in actuality, Yuno's autonomous Special Forces division.

SIDE operatives generally work alone or in pairs, and are tasked with various kinds of missions, including but not limited to espionage, assassination, investigation, and more.

SIDE operatives are ranked from Class SSS to Class E, with SSS being the highest rank and E being the lowest. The highest class is reserved only for the top five SIDE operatives at any given time.

It is said that, owing to their extremely high combat potential, a SIDE operative cannot be defeated in fair combat except by a fellow SIDE operative. This has been proven true so far, as the only casualties SIDE had ever suffered in normal combat (that is, excluding ambushes, traps, and other such underhanded tactics) was at the hands of a defective Class S.

SIDE operatives are well-known for their Weapon Realization technique. This technique is unique for each user in that it creates a weapon from the user's body memory.

In short, this means that a weapon materialized by a SIDE operative would be a perfect fit for his style of combat. This also means that the materialized weapon is a part of the user's magical energy pool, and is thus directly connected to its user via a magical link, allowing the user to materialize, dematerialize, toss and recall it at will. There are only several known SIDE operatives who are capable of materializing more than a single weapon at any given time.

SIDE operatives are also known to favour skill strains. They are experts at creating variants of different skills and spells to suit their fighting style. The most extreme of such strains is said to be that of a Class A operative, who, by gathering and shaping the energy produced by his execution of Grand Cross, can create a 'graveyard of immaterial swords' which he can control at will, providing him with an abundance of swords to send at his enemy from any direction.

SIDE is generally regarded as a fearsome organisation by both the Yunoan community and other governments and guilds, especially since they are authorized to act independently of the Yunoan Authority. However, SIDE _does_ report to the Yunoan Authority regarding missions of high importance or risk.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Shoot, late again. Ah, heck, I really should just say I'll post up when I can and… well, yeah, I can right now. So here it is.

Yup, another chapter with another battle. Yes, Aelyon freaked you out? I'm sure. Don't think too far ahead, though. Just leave yourself open to how all the characters are gonna develop.

I mean, it's fine if you think far ahead and don't get it right, but isn't it boring if you _do_ get it right? Like, "Uh huh… yeah, I kind of expected that…"

Ha-ha! But yeah, like I said. Keep yourself open. Oh, and there's that glossary section for the first time too! About SIDE, right? It'll play a sufficiently big role, so you might want to keep it in mind! Now, let's see…

**Ai:** Yeah, it's a longer wait this time. Whoops? By the way, you freaked Yuichi out. As in, the one in real life. So tone down a bit!

**Yuichi:** Huh, I made you wait again. And yeah! I took your character as the one you had when we played together! You seemed to enjoy being a gunslinger, so I thought it'll be fine, see? Ha-ha! But don't worry, you _might_ _not_ be _just_ a gunslinger. Oh, and as I said, don't think too far ahead. I know Aelyon's creepy. I mean, hey, I write him. I _made_ him that way.

That being said… pray that my projects complete quickly, and that that leaves me with enough time to play the piano then write the next chapter.

Yes, you heard me. Play the piano. I gotta do that a lot everyday. Why? I dunno why. Why do you spend half your day out with that cute guy/girl after school?

Don't know why?

I don't know why either.

… Yeah, I'm a bit out of it at the moment.

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	10. Chapter 9

_**Chapter 9**_

Several hours after the apparent enemy ambush, Xetil and his party found themselves surrounded by yet another group of soldiers. This time, however, the atmosphere was much warmer. After all, the soldiers all around them bore Pronteran emblems.

About twenty minutes back, Tyferia had noted quietly to the party that they were being followed by trackers within the trees, but felt little hostility from them.

As they walked on, they came upon a small encampment—and were greeted enthusiastically by Pronteran soldiers.

Well, most of them, at least. Tyferia and Rylaira were regarded rather coldly. Most of the soldiers merely glanced at them then ignored them, and only a few nodded to them in acknowledgement of their presence. But no smiles were directed toward them.

It troubled Xetil that the Pronteran men seemed to look down on the two simply because they were Yunoan, but Tyferia did not seem bothered by it. Rather, he just scanned the crowd of Pronteran soldiers with a keen gaze, and, gesturing for Rylaira to stay put, made his way towards a large, burly knight who had the badge of a captain sewn onto his uniform's left breast.

As the excitement at finding fellow Pronterans in the area died down, the soldiers began to return to what they were formerly doing, and Xetil looked around in search of Tyferia and Rylaira. Tyferia was at the edge of the clearing, apparently trying to convince the captain about something the latter would have nothing of.

The large man was looking down at Tyferia with contempt, and had one hand on his sword hilt, as if to warn Tyferia from saying anything particularly offensive; the fingers wrapped around the hilt were being flexed periodically.

Rylaira, on the other hand, merely waited where Tyferia had left her. Few soldiers spared her any attention, save for a glance or two her way. The rest were slightly more polite, and simply greeted her with a nod or short greeting.

_Well,_ Xetil thought with relief, _at least no one is antagonizing her._

Turning, Xetil made his way over to Tyferia, who now wore a rather exasperated expression and had his right hand on his hip.

"… Still got a problem, short-stuff?" the large captain was saying to Tyferia. "I told you, the general's a bit too busy to meet with people like you."

"For all your muscle, you seem to lack a great deal of intellect as well as the ability to listen," Tyferia hissed in an irritated fashion, "What I have to say to the general will make my meeting him _not_ a waste of time. However, arguing here with you, as of now, is proving to be just that."

Sensing the rising tension in the air, Xetil began to step forward, but stopped as Tyferia subtly motioned for him with two fingers to stay back.

The captain glowered at Tyferia with a twitching eyelid. "You saying I'm a stupid waste of time, pretty boy?"

"As it may seem… You're as slow and clumsy in the mind as you probably are physically," Tyferia retorted sharply.

Fuming, the captain drew back his fist—

"Slogras, stay your arm!"

The captain immediately froze as a sharp voice rang out from within the trees. A moment later, two tall figures emerged from the foliage, both dressed in light battle armour and long, elegant red capes.

"Brother!" Xetil heard Aelyon's elated gasp from somewhere behind him. The taller of the two men who had emerged from within the greenery turned in the direction of Aelyon's voice and smiled slightly in recognition of Aelyon, but motioned subtly as if to tell Aelyon to stay put for the time being.

The shorter man stepped up to stand beside Slogras. He had straight, long blond hair which hung down to his waist, and turquoise coloured eyes.

Overall, it was a very elegant appearance. However, despite how he looked, the wary way in which he walked and glanced about made Xetil feel that this man probably felt insecure about something. The man's gaze met Tyferia's.

"Well, well, if it isn't the Song-Blade himself," he murmured, stretching forth a hand. "General Longinus Tetra of the 9th Cavalry. We've met before."

"All too unfortunately," Tyferia replied coldly, ignoring the outstretched hand. "A word, if you would, away from stray ears."

Tyferia jerked his head to one side, and Tetra, catching the cue, nodded slowly, apparently unperturbed by Tyferia's visible—or rather, audible—lack of respect. Turning to Slogras, the general said, "Slogras, I shall have a talk with this man alone. Ensure that no one interrupts."

"But sir, with this lowlife?" Slogras protested. "Surely, the time of a noble such as yourself would be better spent on—"

"Silence, Slogras," Tetra snapped. "We nobles decide how best to spend our time. Besides," he continued slowly, "you would treat this Yunoan warrior with much more respect and caution if you knew his contribution to a certain mission in the past."

Slogras scowled in Tyferia's direction, but knew better than to retort. Huffing in a disgruntled manner, he folded his arms and looked away.

Tyferia drew Tetra a short distance to the side and began speaking to him in hushed tones, and, realizing that he probably should not interrupt, Xetil turned to search for his other companions.

Rylaira was now seated at the edge of the small encampment, perfectly undisturbed by the fact that she was being ignored. Lune was currently engaged in conversation with a young warrior bearing the badge of a healer, who was nodding intently to her words as he studied her shoulder wound.

Xetil supposed the healer was looking to see how best he could operate on the wound to remove the bullet to make it safe for healing. It was, after all, not considered prudent to heal a wound without first extracting the bullet.

Xetil then turned to find Aelyon, and saw that the young lieutenant had grasped the chance to talk with the man who had accompanied Tetra previously. The man, like Aelyon, sported light brown hair and red eyes. However, unlike Aelyon, who wore his slightly wavy hair at shoulder length, the other man wore his hair short, cropped and slicked back.

_Aelyon's brother, huh,_ Xetil thought grimly. The resemblance between both men was clear. Not just in their physical features, but in the way they held themselves: upright and confident.

But while Aelyon's eyes burned with enthusiasm and ambition, his brother's red eyes had taken on a colder gleam, giving him an intense, dangerous look, not quite unlike that of Tyferia. But he looked different from Tyferia, nonetheless. Because of the way he smiled, with those curled lips. As if he were a cold-blooded killer.

Even as the thought struck, the man turned his crimson eyes on Xetil, and Xetil felt his heart stop. For a long moment, the world became devoid of sound as the two warriors' eyes met.

Aelyon turned to follow his brother's gaze, and, realizing the two's eye contact, eagerly rushed to introduce them.

"Oh, right! Brother, I'd like you to meet—"

"A member of the Fades family," Aelyon's brother interrupted smoothly, stepping up to Xetil. So close to him, Xetil realized the man was a good fifteen centimetres taller than he was. Aelyon's brother stretched forth a hand and smiled that dangerous smile.

"Valyon Telkast," he said softly, "First Commander of the 9th Cavalry."

_First Commander…_

The rank echoed hollowly in Xetil's mind for a moment. First Commander was the second highest rank in the Cavalry chain of command. To have achieved that rank… Xetil figured this man must be quite the warrior.

Reaching forth warily to shake Valyon's hand, Xetil said, "Xetil Fades, Captain of the 7th Division."

"Ah, and you're a young captain, aren't you?" Valyon remarked quietly. "As expected of a Fades. Your ancestors too, were remarkable warriors and officers."

"… Yes, they were," Xetil answered carefully. Deciding that it would be rude to ignore Aelyon too much, Xetil said, "Your brother is quite the warrior himself. He fought me squarely in combat, and had the advantage several times."

"Do not feel the need to return compliments, my friend," Valyon replied smoothly, "He has spoken to me of that duel, and I am sure you would have been able to dispatch him without much effort had your Yunoan companion not stopped the fight. Regardless, that he would have shed the blood of a fellow Pronteran had you not been so skilled, I am ashamed."

Aelyon flushed at the statement, but did not speak against it. Startled at Valyon's heartless words, Xetil blinked and stuttered, "B-but, well, considering his situation…"

"Do not feel obliged to defend my brother's pride," Valyon cut him off. "He must learn from his failures, and to do so, he must first have his eyes opened to his incompetence."

"… Of course," Xetil answered in a stunned fashion.

"Now, if you would excuse me."

Valyon bowed and turned to walk towards his general, who was still speaking with Tyferia, leaving Aelyon alone with Xetil.

Aelyon sighed.

"As expected of Valyon," he muttered bitterly. "He never looked at me."

"Well," Xetil replied with a smile, albeit, an uneasy one, "I'm sure he's just pushing you to get the best out of you. Brothers always do that, right?"

Aelyon looked up to glare at Xetil angrily.

"Do not speak as if you know my brother better than I do, Fades," he snarled heatedly. "You might be the apple of many a person's eye right now, but heed my words: not for much longer!"

With that, Aelyon stormed off; the very image of a kid throwing a tantrum. Xetil simply stood there, staring after the young man.

As of then, he was totally unsure of what he had done wrong.

/

As night fell, Xetil headed toward a small tent at the edge of the encampment the 9th Cavalry had set up for him and Lune. Since the conversation with Valyon, Aelyon had not spoken a word to him, leaving Xetil with a certain guilty sensation that left him wondering just what he had said that was so _bad_.

He decided not to think too much about it, though. He did not mean to upset Aelyon, either way, so he really should not be upset over anything.

Heaving a rather large sigh, Xetil drew back the flap of his tent and entered it, and as the flap fell back into place behind him, he was suddenly aware of a certain other presence in the tent.

Xetil looked up slowly, and his eyes came to rest upon Lune, who was staring right back at him with wide, startled eyes, as if she had not expected to see him. No sound escaped her lips, however; she was biting lightly on a piece of fabric.

A piece of fabric that, Xetil realized, she usually wore around her torso. Lune was kneeling on one of the two mats in the tent with her battle shirt held in her mouth.

The lightweight battle shirt slipped from within her teeth as the two continued to stare at each other for a long moment. And then…

"_Out_! Get _out_!"

Utterly dumbfounded, Xetil barely managed to duck under Lune's crossbow as she tossed it savagely at him, and he turned tail and fled, rushing out through the flaps of the tent, panting heavily.

Still dazed, Xetil tried to make sense of what had just happened. He had entered the tent to find Lune with her shirt in her mouth, meaning…

Xetil felt blood rush to his face as he realized that he had just walked in on a half-naked girl. Of course, he didn't see much, as her shirt was hanging from between her lips, effectively blocking his view, but…

But the shirt was _dropped_…

Xetil gulped and bit his lip. He had just seen what he really should _not_ have seen. Not that he really regretted it—_stop that; don't envision it again_—but Lune would certainly _not_ forgive him for this!

Xetil tilted his head quizzically as a strange thought struck him. Why exactly did she have her shirt off, anyway?

Xetil heard the flaps of the tent being pulled aside behind him, and he turned slowly to see Lune, now fully dressed, exit the tent.

"L-Lune," he stammered, grinning sheepishly. He stole a quick glance at her chest, and then quickly returned his gaze to her face. _Damn it, I really never realized… their size…_

Lune narrowed her eyes dangerous, having obviously spotted the glance, and she took an aggressive step forward, grabbing Xetil's collar and pulling him close.

"Xetil…" she growled menacingly, "Do you know what girls do to perverts at this proximity?"

"H-hey, hold up!" Xetil exclaimed in a panicked fashion. "Y-you knew we were sharing the tent! So you shouldn't even have had your shirt off. So, it… it wasn't _my_ fault!"

"Oh, so I'm not supposed to change my bandages, am I?" Lune retorted, jerking her chin at her shoulder.

"T-That's not what I meant!"

"My knee's getting _itchy_, Xetil. Did I never tell you to _knock_ before entering?"

"It's a bloody _tent_! Rapping my fist against fabric is… well…"

"I would still have heard it, right? It's a small tent, Xetil, and don't take it the wrong way..."

Xetil gulped again, positively frightened now.

"I didn't know you were in there already…?"

It was a last-ditched attempt. An attempt which, Xetil was surprised, apparently worked. Lune's lips curled at the corners, and her grip around his collar loosened.

"Alright, fine," Lune seemed to relent, shrugging. "You had no way of knowing I was in there. Okay."

Xetil sighed in relief.

"So… everything's fine now, right?" he asked warily.

"Yeah, I suppose," Lune replied, nodding. She watched him for a moment, and then grinned mischievously. "So… did you enjoy what you saw?"

Now _that_ was out of character.

"W-what?" Xetil stuttered.

"Tell the truth, now…" Lune took a step toward Xetil; Xetil took a step back.

"Uh… well…" Xetil sought for words in vain. He couldn't say he enjoyed it; she would use that as an excuse to hurt him—literally! But if he said he didn't…

"Well?"

"Uh… I can't really say… I did?"

"Oh, so you _did_ enjoy it, then," Lune smirked. She grabbed his collar again and pulled him towards her, closer this time. "That's good, then. It probably means you'd enjoy _this_, too."

Xetil felt her other hand reach up to his face, tilting his head to the side slightly, and she leaned in—to _kiss_ him?

Xetil let out a yelp as a sharp pain tore through his lower lips, and he jerked away from Lune, patting frantically at his lower lip, wincing.

"That's for enjoying your little indecent act," Lune snapped at him indignantly. "So much for your knightly values. You should learn to respect a lady more."

"Yeah, right," Xetil grunted, still wincing from the pain. "Which _lady_ would chomp on the lips of someone who _accidentally_ walked in on her changing her injuries' dressings in a tent she shares with him? How ungracious…"

Lune ignored his retort, and, with a short harrumph, she turned and entered the tent again. Xetil glanced about, and, realizing that the small exchange had been observed by a few members of the 9th Cavalry, quickly followed Lune into the tent, hoping to escape from their sight.

He didn't get far, though; the instant he popped his head into the tent, Lune's boot flew at him, forcing him into a hasty retreat.

"_Knock_, you idiot!"

Clucking his tongue in irritation, Xetil slapped at the flaps twice, and then entered.

"There, happy?" he grumbled as he settled down on his mat.

"No, but satisfied," Lune replied from her mat without even turning to face him. "I can't possibly be happy, having seen by… by _you_… with my shirt off."

"You make it sound like you wouldn't mind if it were someone else," Xetil muttered, rubbing his lips between two fingers.

"Most certainly not," Lune said haughtily. "Not yet, anyway. Personally, I feel that only my husband should see me in anything less than my full attire."

"You sure have lots of husbands when you go swimming, then," Xetil remarked sourly, holding up his hand and watching as a trickle of blood made its way down his fingers to his palm. "Hey, it's bleeding…"

"Serves you right," Lune huffed.

Xetil stole a glance at her. She was still facing the opposite direction, fiddling with her shirt's button absently.

"Hey, don't be so mad…"

"What?" Lune spun about suddenly, as if surprised. "I-I'm not mad!"

Xetil stared.

"Are you… blushing?"

Lune recoiled at his words, and then her face contorted with fury.

"_Xetil_!"

She picked up her spare boot—the one she had not tossed at Xetil earlier—and raised it, but before she could throw it, the flaps of their tent was pulled back. Xetil had not even the time to see who it was when Lune sent the boot flying in the intruder's direction.

Tyferia's left hand grabbed the boot out of the air in an almost indifferent manner, and for a long moment, he stared at it, then tossed it to the ground next to Lune's other boot.

"A warm welcome indeed," he remarked quietly.

"Knock…" Lune murmured, barely a whisper.

Tyferia inclined his head politely.

"I shall take note of your… preference," he said carefully.

"What's up, Tyferia?" Xetil asked, secretly relieved that Tyferia's sudden appearance had saved his face from receiving a new footprint.

"We'll be leaving early tomorrow, so get some sleep," Tyferia replied simply.

"What?" Lune spoke up, her anger vanishing suddenly. "But… isn't the Dead Pit now _Libertas_ territory?"

"It was," Tyferia said, nodding. "If you may recall my story I told you earlier today…"

"The one about the vanishing miners and an evil spirit?" Xetil cut in.

"That very one, yes," Tyferia affirmed. "It reoccurred last night. A Pronteran scouting party entered the pit this morning to find a new _Libertas_ encampment completely deserted. After confirming that it was empty, they entered the camp to investigate, and found no living souls there—save one."

"And?" Xetil prompted, interested to know more.

Tyferia made a grim expression.

"It was a woman. Apparently, she had completely lost it. She was murmuring to herself when they found her, and when the Pronteran scouts approached her, she abruptly screamed and plunged a dagger into her own throat."

Lune recoiled.

"She _what_?"

"She ended her own life," Tyferia said, shaking his head with a sigh.

Xetil frowned and spoke up, "Wait up, Tyferia. Do you have any clue about whatever caused that? I mean, I know Lune asked this morning, but you didn't answer, and… well…"

"What makes you _think_ I do?" Tyferia interrupted, his voice now taking on a decidedly cold tone.

"U-uh… Well, for one," Xetil said carefully, "It might be a monster or spirit that targets people based on their gender, right? I mean, you don't seem the type to give unneeded information, and the first thing you told us about the last _Libertas_ member was that she was a woman."

Tyferia remained silent for a long while, and then said, "I suppose I am that transparent, then, am I?"

"Translucent, actually," Xetil replied honestly. "Even if you give hints, I never really manage to make out what you're thinking."

"Is that so?" Tyferia shrugged nonchalantly, and then abruptly said, "Tomorrow, dawn. In front of the general's tent."

With that, he just left, leaving Xetil's question hanging. Xetil stared at where Tyferia had been standing just a moment ago.

"He… didn't answer…"

"You didn't knock," Lune cut him off haughtily, as if it were related to what he said at all. Reaching off to put out her lamp, she said, "Good night, Xetil."

And, just like that, the tent went pitch black.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Hey all, first off, I'd like to say that I am _not_ quitting as a fanfiction author!

Well, admittedly, I've been busy with this and that that I haven't managed to update until now. Yes, it's been so long, and I'm sad to say that on occasion, _yes_, I will take so long to update.

What other businesses I've been up to are my own business, do respect my privacy, yeah? But to wrap things up, I sincerely apologize for the really long wait.

But on to the story, yes, this chapter had me in a few writer's blocks. I admit that I've always had problems writing casual plot gaps in the story. Any decent author should know that plot gaps are required; small fillers here and there to space out the plot.

Otherwise it'll get to rushed. Simply put, I can't just say, 'The group met up with the 9th Cavalry later that day, and then moved on quickly from there,' I mean, the natural question the reader would have is, 'Right then… So since we know Aelyon is _part_ of the 9th Cavalry and its general has been mentioned, surely some exchanges must have taken place during the meeting?'

Answer: yes, but if you wouldn't think that question, go watch a slideshow. You'd at least feel it's choppy, like it cuts from one scene to the next without anything in between to link it up.

Another problematic part I've had was the part where Xetil walks in on Lune, 'indecently exposing' her. I mean, sexual implications are made every now and then in most stories rated 'T', but to have such a direct shot at the theme (meaning, not implied, rather, literal) is something I usually refrain from, either way.

But sometimes if you wanna kick things along, you gotta just write it out, yeah? So I did. A bit uncomfortable, but then again, it's a story. Not everything's snow white and pure gold. No problems/conflicts = no plot.

So, review-replies time:

**Ai:** Forgive me, please? I'd write it out in Japanese to put you off, but that's not very good for business, is it? Besides, you only just started learning! But anyway, don't pinch Yuichi. He's a decent guy. Don't hurt his uh… male pride. Whatever you want to call it. Hah! But yeah, you can use my characters if you want to. Oh, **NOTE TO ALL AUTHORS WHO READ THIS STORY: YOU CAN USE MY CHARACTERS **_**IF**_** YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION, AND PLEASE DON'T IF YOU DON'T!** Thanks for your review, Ai. Gave me a place to say that!

**Yuichi:** You sure it's alright for Ai to pinch you? Watch your words! Hah! But yeah, whether Tyferia was in SIDE… hmm… I won't say if he's an Insider (SIDE Operative) but I will say he has had some dealings with them. Yup.

Alright, that's about it for the reviewers. I kind of want more, but oh well. I'll try to get the next chapter up within the next week. Feel free to bug and hurry me in any way you know how, because next week is my last week of holidays!

Signing off,

- Zemiah Dyterra


	11. Chapter 10

_**Chapter 10**_

_Her lips were… sweet…_

_He didn't know where they were. But they were kissing, either way, locked in a tight embrace, her small hands pushing against his chest, and that was all that mattered. His hands ran along her back, and for the first time, he realized: her dress left her back bare. A design not quite uncommon those days_

"_S-stop. Please…"._

_Their lips had parted for a moment, and the woman was pulling back, as if to she wanted to stop. But he pressed in, not letting her escape. How could she want to stop? Surely, she must feel as if she were in heaven, like he did!_

_His lips descended on her neck hungrily, and he sought for the collar of her dress, desiring to rip the beautiful dress to shreds. She clawed at his back desperately…_

_And then he heard another voice._

"_I've got you now…"_

/

Xetil rose from his slumber, feeling, oddly much more drained than when he'd first laid down to sleep. Letting out a groan, possibly one of exhaustion, he sat up, resting an elbow on his knee and pressing his knuckle against his forehead.

He hoped the headache was just an early morning thing.

To his left, Lune stirred, a quiet sound escaping her lips as she shifted uncomfortably on her met. Xetil watched her roll over on her mat, so she faced his direction. As he studied her, he was uncomfortably aware that her battle shirt's upper two buttons were undone, and it had pulled back far enough to expose most of her left shoulder.

Xetil stared for the longest time, and then forcefully tore his gaze away from the beautiful—_beautiful_? Xetil paused as the word echoed hollowly in his head. Did he just think of Lune as _beautiful_?

He glanced at the scout one more time. For some reason, her chocolate brown hair seemed… warmer today somehow. The temptation to run a hand through those silky strands was quite unbearable.

So much so that Xetil got to his feet quickly and left the tent.

It was still dark outside, and apparently, no one else had left their tents. As such, Xetil found himself quite alone as he wandered about the encampment, shrouded in the heavy morning mist. But the cold distracted Xetil from the sight of Lune sleeping, and that was fine for now.

Still, it was strange. It wasn't the first time Xetil had seen a sleeping Lune. She'd been living in his very household since they first knew each other. After all, her parents were some of _his_ parents' most trusted servants.

But maybe it was just because he hadn't seen her sleep for quite a long time already. She'd grown up since then. And it wasn't just her face, which had gone from cute to pretty, but even her… proportions had become undeniably eye-catching.

"A troubled soul…"

Xetil almost shrieked in utter shock. He managed something close to a squeal, though, and spun about.

"T-Tyferia?" he gasped, pressing his palm against his chest. His lung had taken in a tad too much cold air. "You scared the daylights out of me."

"Amusing how it's not much brighter right now, then," Tyferia remarked dryly. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Xetil replied, feeling the ache in his lungs disappear. "Just… a bit caught up in thought."

"Alright," Tyferia said simply. He looked up with a frown. "Daybreak…"

Xetil turned around and saw that, indeed, the first rays of sunlight had broken the horizon.

"Come," Tyferia said, tapping him on his arm. "Let us head to Tetra's tent."

Xetil nodded, still feeling tired and distracted, and followed Tyferia through the encampment. They arrived at Tetra's tent to find Rylaira, Tetra, the Telkast brothers, and Slogras standing just outside it.

Xetil glanced at Aelyon, who was wearing an indifferent expression. He hoped Aelyon had gotten over the incident the previous day, but, he could not quite tell. Maybe he should talk to Aelyon later. Valyon looked up.

"Ah, they're here."

The rest of the group looked up and watched the two approached, and as they did, Tetra cleared his throat sharply and asked, "Are we all here?"

"We're just missing Lune," Rylaira answered. "Let's be patient; we're still early."

Tetra sighed and shrugged. Beside him, Slogras shifted uncomfortably and shot a sideward glance at Rylaira, his tongue darting out to wet his lips with a quick flick. Almost as if he were anxious about something.

"Captain?" Xetil voiced up uncertainly as Tyferia stepped past him to stand beside Rylaira.

Slogras jumped slightly and turned to Xetil.

"W-what?"

"Are you okay? You seem unnerved, somehow."

"I'm fine," the burly man snapped.

"Calm your tongue, Slogras," Valyon cut in. "Fades is merely concerned for you."

"… Yes, Commander."

Xetil sighed. It seems he wasn't the only person who felt awkward that day. Something was amiss, though he couldn't quite place _what_ that was.

"Sorry I'm late!"

Xetil turned to see Lune jog up to the group, panting.

"Good, now that we're all here…." Tetra murmured. He looked at each of them in turn, as if to ensure that he had their attention, and then began, "Yesterday morning, our scouts discovered a deserted _Libertas_ encampment in the Dead Pit. That encampment was newly set up, probably right after the _Libertas_ had secured that position."

"We know all this, and have all heard of the woman, so please spare needless details, general," Tyferia cut in.

Tetra cleared his throat in a flustered manner.

"Yes, of course. Alright then," Tetra said, turning to face Xetil. "Now, I am sending Slogras, Valyon and Aelyon to escort your party, Fades, to Aldebaron. All three of them are powerful warriors who should prove useful if you meet whatever's down there in the pit, and they are also familiar with the _Libertas_ positions on the opposite side of the pit, and will be able to help you slip past them unnoticed. I believe this to be best for you as," Tetra paused to glance at Tyferia, "as I am given to believe that your mission is… quite urgent."

"Yes, it is," Xetil affirmed. "Thank you, sir."

"Alright. That's all then, as Tyferia here has requested that I keep things short. Do any of you have anything to say? Or questions, perhaps?"

"I do."

Everyone—except Tyferia and Valyon, which, for some reason, Xetil was not surprised to find—turned in the direction of the voice. Aelyon had stepped forward.

"Lieutenant Telkast?" Tetra addressed Aelyon.

"I wish to accompany Xetil's party throughout the entirety of their mission, sir."

"I shall not accept this," Tyferia cut in sharply. "The nature of this mission is quite confidential."

"I concur," Valyon spoke up as well. But he turned to Tyferia with a small smile and continued, "However, I would very much like him to accompany you. He could simply play the role of an extra sword: certainly a welcome addition, I believe. And this might be beneficial to him, as well."

"If you would make yourself clear…" Tyferia said stiffly, eyeing Valyon with nothing short off disdain.

"Yes, I shall, of course, do that," Valyon replied immediately, as if he had expected Tyferia's reaction. "I believe that Aelyon could learn much from you, and I shall not be called biased to say that my brother is a formidable warrior. However, there are certain facets of combat that my brother has yet to even acknowledge."

Tyferia narrowed his eyes.

"Indeed," he agreed. "Yet it is that very lack of knowledge that makes him dangerous to my party. He is ambitious and lacks a moral sense of economy in combat. I shan't be known as biased, either, to assure you that that would cause unnecessary problems for our party."

Aelyon flinched visibly. For a moment, Xetil felt sympathy for him. Tyferia had stated the faults he saw in Aelyon in the bluntest of manners. But Valyon seemed totally unfazed, and smiled.

"A moral sense of economy? Dear me," he murmured, laughing icily, "I would've thought a great warrior such as the famed Song-Blade would know better. There _are_ no morals in combat!"

"Enough!" Tetra cut in, almost desperately. While it might seem so, Xetil could recognise that his interruption was not an act of authority, but a plea.

He had no authority over these two men.

"Enough," he repeated himself slowly. Turning to Tyferia, he said softly, "Song-Blade Tyferia, I understand your concerns. But if I may request so, please do take Aelyon with you."

Tyferia turned his gaze—which was alight with cold flame—on the general, who cringed slightly. But Tetra managed to hold his gaze for a moment.

Xetil gulped and stepped forward boldly.

"Tyferia?" he said quietly.

Tyferia turned to him.

"I… know you hold seniority over me. Yet this mission was appointed unto me and Lune, with you and Rylaira as our guides," Xetil said carefully. "So if I may, I believe that the final decision as to whether or not Aelyon comes with us rests with me and Lune. And…"

"I _refuse_," Lune piped up.

Xetil sighed. So much for defusing the situation. Turning to Lune almost pleadingly, he said, "Scout Ovelia, may I remind you that I hold authority over you by rank?"

Lune glared at Xetil.

"So you mean to say you're exercising what—your right as _party leader_?" she hissed incredulously.

"Unfortunately, yes," Xetil replied with finality, "And by Pronteran protocol, the warrior with the highest rank holds authority over his mission and comrades, be they civilian or lower-ranking officers."

"And that, indeed, is a major military flaw," Tyferia added sharply. But he stepped back, however, and went silent.

Sighing with relief, Xetil turned back to Lune and nodded challengingly, prompting her to voice up if she had anything left to say. But she merely glared at him, and he was suddenly aware of the fact that his lower lip was still throbbing with pain from the previous night.

It made him wonder if his upper lip would get it _that_ night.

"Good, it's settled, then," Tetra said, visibly relieved. "So, Captain Fades, what is your decision?"

"I will allow Aelyon to come with us," Xetil said carefully. "But I reserve the right to send him back if he causes any trouble for my party."

"And I reserve _my_ right to end his life if his actions threaten any of our lives."

"Tyferia!" Xetil exclaimed, horrified at the Yunoan's words. But Tyferia's expression made it clear that he allowed for no arguments, and Xetil sighed. "Alright, fine."

Tetra nodded, and glanced at Valyon for confirmation. The First Commander nodded, and Tetra said, "Alright then. You leave as soon as you're ready. Odin be with you."

/

The group left the encampment some fifteen minutes later with Valyon in the lead. The tall man obviously knew his way about the area, for he led them through the thick greenery confidently, without slowing or halting even once.

As they walked, Lune found herself constantly glaring at Aelyon's back. She _hated_ that guy. She didn't quite know why, but that incident earlier, where he'd harassed her in a most suggestive manner, had certainly made things worse.

And then there was Xetil. What was he _thinking_, acting all arrogant and stuck-up? She thought he was above abusing his status, but oh, she thought wrong.

She jerked in shock as she felt someone's hand on her shoulder, and she looked over her shoulder.

"Hey, Lune. Are you okay?" Xetil asked softly.

She thought to shrug his hand off, as she was still angry with him—not just for what he had just done, but the previous night as well. But she felt him squeeze her shoulder softly in a most concerned manner, and, for some strange reason, her anger quickly ebbed away.

"Y-yeah…" she forced out, looking away. She couldn't quick meet his eye right then.

"You sure?" he asked. He took a small jump forward to walk beside her. "You're flushed and all… You're not still angry about me seeing your—uh…" he lowered his voice, "your _chest_, are you?"

"W-what…" she felt her anger well up inside her. _That_ _insolent_ _letch_…_!_

Xetil raised his hands apologetically as she glowered at him, but he lowered them quickly and sighed.

"Hey, look, I'm sorry about that, alright?" he said with a sigh. "And about just now, too. It's just… I didn't know how else I could bring the whole argument to a mutually satisfactory conclusion."

Lune did not think it was a very satisfactory conclusion, but, realizing that Xetil was really sincere, she sighed and calmed herself.

"I know… I just wasn't keen on having _him_ with us."

"Why not?"

"I told you I didn't like him, right?" Lune murmured. "He's just… not right."

"Hmm… okay…"

Xetil made an uncertain expression, though, and quietened down as the jungle about them began to thin.

"Look," he whispered, "We're out of the forest."

The group had arrived at the edge of the Dead Pit. Just ahead of them, a bridge that once marked the pit's diameter was now in shambles, and obviously not ready to take any weight.

"We'll be heading into the pit," Valyon announced from the front. "Be on guard for monsters and _Libertas_ soldiers, though. The _Libertas_ might still be patrolling the pit during the day, despite the incident two nights ago."

That being said, he led the group along the pit's edge to an area where the slope leading down into the pit was considerably gentle, and then, motioning for them to follow carefully, he picked his way down into the pit slowly.

As Lune stepped forward to follow her fellow party members, Tyferia confidently stepped off the edge of the cliff and slid down the slope, skilfully maintaining his balance until the slope's angle had flattened out enough to halt his descent.

Rylaira chuckled at her partner's impatience, but followed suit, though she descended much slower than Tyferia had. Tyferia took her hand and caught her as she arrived at his position, and the two watched the rest of the group descend.

_If only I could descend that way,_ Lune thought enviously as her foot slipped on a rock, forcing her to slam her palm into the ground to keep from tumbling down the slope. A small stone tore at her skin, but she ignored it. A drop of potion later would probably be enough to mend that cut.

Nearby, Captain Slogras quietly snickered at her apparent lack of balance, but she did her best to ignore the large man as he overtook her.

She arrived moments later where Tyferia and Rylaira had landed, and watched as Xetil caught up. Now that everyone was together, Valyon motioned for them to follow him.

The group moved in silence for several long minutes, and then, as they neared what appeared to be a gully, Valyon stopped.

"What is it?" Lune asked.

"The deserted encampment is just ahead," Valyon answered. "It's positioned in a small trench within this gully."

"Those _Libertas_ dogs might have come to scavenge the camp," Slogras growled. "Let's go wipe them out!"

"Unnecessary bloodshed," Tyferia cut in. Slogras's face contorted with fury as he stepped up to Tyferia.

"What's the matter, pretty boy? Afraid of blood?"

"Stay your tongue or have it severed," Tyferia retorted. "Do you wish to draw attention to our position with your incoherent rumbling?"

Slogras made a sound deep in his throat, but suddenly quietened down as he glanced over Tyferia's shoulder. The sight of Rylaira seemed to distract him for a moment for some reason, but his face paled as Rylaira returned his gaze, questioning it with a quiet curiosity.

He seemed to suddenly remember that Tyferia was standing in front of him, though, and fury quickly returned to his expression, but Valyon put a hand on his forearm to calm him.

"Be silent," he instructed. Turning to Tyferia, Valyon said, "I agree that if there are soldiers there, it's unnecessary bloodshed. However, they _are_ the enemy, and it might take us a long time to make our way around the gully. It would seem that there is a rock formation running through this gully, and that the trench is the only way to bypass that wall."

Tyferia cast his gaze downwards thoughtfully for a moment, and then nodded.

"Alright, then, let's head through the trench. If you would lead us?"

Valyon nodded, and the group resumed its motion, heading into the gully. It wasn't until they had entered the trench, and the encampment was in sight, when Tyferia suddenly grabbed Rylaira's arm and pulled her close to him, frowning.

"Wait," he said loudly.

"Are you insane?" Xetil hissed, instinctively crouching and spinning about to ensure that no one hostile had heard the Yunoan. "Be quiet! The enemy might be out there!"

"No, there's no one here," Tyferia replied darkly. "No one human, at the very least."

"So why have we stopped?" Aelyon asked, frowning.

"The ground…" Rylaira whispered. "The ground is… shaking…"

Lune looked down and stared as a small stone fragment danced its way across the length of her foot. Further to the front, Valyon drew his sword and threw his cape over his right shoulder to clear his sword arm.

"There's something beneath us!" he shouted warningly. "Be ready!"

Beside Valyon, Slogras drew his battle axe and spun it in the air before him challengingly, letting out a savage, bloodthirsty war cry.

Cracks began to appear in the ground and the walls, and purplish smoke began to ooze from them. Pulling Rylaira closer to himself, Tyferia's eyes narrowed in recognition of the smoke.

"What is it?" Lune asked, feeling the all-too-familiar sensation of fear rising up within her.

"Miasma," Tyferia murmured in answer. "I should've known better than to allow us to come here. This was the site of a supernatural attack. It is a tainted area."

A startled cry from behind Lune made her spin about. Xetil had drawn his sword—and was staring, wide-eyed, at a large mass of converging miasma, which was forming a silhouette of—a _horse_?

"Nightmare!" Tyferia yelled an instant before the silhouette came to life, rearing back on its hind legs and letting out a bone-chilling neigh.

Lune loosed an arrow, but the miasma parted where the arrow struck. The arrow passed through the monster without effect.

"Damn it," Lune hissed. She threw her backpack to the ground and opened it quickly, searching for an elemental projectile to use, but even as she did so, the Nightmare began galloping towards her and Xetil.

"_Magnum Break_!"

A brilliant cloud of flame washed over the area, passing safely over Lune and Xetil's heads to push the rushing monster back. Looking up, Lune watched as Valyon landed on the ground beside Xetil, his sword still engulfed in flame.

"Fades," he instructed softly, "Support me."

"U-understood!"

Flourishing his blade, Valyon rushed forward to attack the Nightmare. Behind him, Xetil raised his sword and closed his eyes. His weapon began to glow a brilliant shade of gold.

"_Magnum Break_!"

Lune did not have time to see the effects of Xetil's attack. A human shaped shadow was suddenly cast over her, and she froze.

"Lune!" she heard Rylaira shout

Lune spun around, and found herself staring into the hollow sockets of a skeleton, which had a huge pickaxe raised overhead, ready to strike her.

Aelyon stepped between her and her assailant, deflecting the skeleton's attack, and, an instant later, a ruby coloured beam pierced the skeleton's head, and it fell to shambles.

Rylaira had, apparently, cast one of her spells.

"Are you okay?" Aelyon asked, turning to her. Lune opted not to reply, though, and edged around him as more skeletons began to rise from the ground. From their attire and equipment, what with their heavy safety helmets and pickaxes, Lune guessed that they were—or once were—miners and workers.

At least she could hit skeletons with regular arrows. Her first shot caused a newly-assembled skeleton to crumble.

Tyferia, too, had finally drawn his blade, and, with his first slash—a wide, flowing horizontal swing—he sent three skeletons back to their graves. He then caught an attacking skeleton's pickaxe in one hand, just under its head, and beheaded the skeleton. Spinning about, he tossed his newly acquired pickaxe through the air, and it beheaded yet another two skeletons before striking the wall with a satisfying ring.

Further into the trench, Slogras was slowly getting mobbed by forming skeletons. His slow, heavy strikes promised to destroy everything in range. However, the time it took for him to rear back for yet another strike allowed for yet more skeletons to confront him. It seemed inevitable that he would soon be totally overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

Lune licked her lips and fitted an arrow onto her bow. She would need to calculate an Arrow Shower attack very precisely if she were to avoid hitting the large man by accident. As such…

"_Arrow—_ah!" Lune screamed as a decaying hand suddenly grabbed her right arm, pulling it right into the mouth of a similarly decaying head. A zombie had attacked her—and it had sunk its teeth into her arm.

The pain was nauseating, but somehow, Lune managed to draw her dagger, and she stabbed at the zombie's head rapidly. The zombie let out a tired groan as its knees lost strength, but it did not loosen its grip on her arm.

Gritting her teeth, Lune planted her foot in the zombie's chest and kicked outwards violently, finally dislodging the persistent zombie. She fell onto the ground, panting heavily. She was poisoned—and she knew it. No one could get bitten by a zombie without being infected.

But luckily, that poison wasn't very impossible to deal with. Regular antidotes and herbs could cure one of it—if it was dealt with fast enough. The scary part came when one didn't _have_ any remedies, as leaving a zombie's bite too long without treatment would make it incurable. And anyone who died from a zombie bite's poison became a zombie themselves.

As Lune rummaged through her pack once more, she cast her gaze over her surroundings. More monsters, like the zombie, had appeared. Tyferia was currently in an intense duel with a Wanderer; Rylaira was holding off an Evil Druid; Slogras was swinging his axe wildly at a crowd of skeletons; Aelyon was nearby, fighting off more zombies; and Xetil and Valyon were still in combat with the Nightmare—or at least, she thinks so.

Either it was dead already, or that Nightmare was one of the three Nightmares they were currently dealing with. Apparently, more had come.

It seemed a hopeless situation. Lune finally found a green herb and crammed it into her mouth, chewing on it frantically—it tasted like extremely strong mint—and then, spitting out the chewed herb, she prepared herself for pain—and pressed the green mass into her wound.

The pain was severe, but the herb's painkilling factors quickly took effect, and, feeling the poison's effects wear off, she poured a vial of orange potion over the wound.

It would be fine in several minutes.

Sheathing her dagger, Lune readied her bow and began firing again. The painkilling, disinfectant green herb was doing just fine, and the orange potion was fast-acting enough to prevent her wound from opening again simply from the strain of firing from her bow.

But even then, more enemies were coming. Things still looked bad.

And then the shaking of the ground intensified. All around, just about everything which stood on two legs began to stumble and fall to the ground.

Momentarily distracted, Rylaira glanced from where she was floating in the air, encased in her protective bubble—and the Evil Druid sent a ball of purple energy at her. The blast knocked her down to the ground. Dazed from impact, Rylaira fought to maintain her barrier, which had begun to flicker dangerously. The Evil Druid raised its hand for the final spell…

And Tyferia leapt forward, shielding Rylaira with his body.

"Tyferia!" Lune cried out as the swordsman spun to slash at the mass of incoming magical energy. Lune wasn't sure if he succeeded in deflecting the blast, but the ground beneath him caved in on itself, and the newly formed hole claimed Tyferia and Rylaira both.

Up ahead, the ground beneath Slogras, too, was collapsing, probably under the weight of all the skeletons around him. But Lune never saw the ground claim him. The ground beneath her began to shudder even more violently.

It claimed _her_, first.

/

**Glossary**

_Miasma_

A tainted, contaminated form of ectoplasm. Many dark creatures, such as Nightmares and Mysts, are Miasma given form. It usually takes on the appearance of a noxious, viscous gas, dark purple in colour. As Miasma is formed from the contamination of power or one's soul, many who have dabbled much in Dark Arts of any kind, have been known to appear as if Miasma were leaking from their very bodies, not quite unlike Evil Druids. It is still unconfirmed as to whether Miasma simply gathers around them or if their bodies actually produce Miasma. It is said that excess inhalation of Miasma could affect one's mind, causing extreme hysteria, sadism and insanity in most cases.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Ugh, to tell the truth, I had this chapter up months ago, but it just never occurred to me that I hadn't posted it up! Anyway, even if I had posted it, it was the start of a new semester back then. Always a chore to get adjusted and all, but yeah.

I'll cut to the chase today and go straight to the reviewers. Still got things to do!

**Ai:** Yes… yes, I'm sure you _do_ like filler chapters. Yup. _So_ sure. Anyway, yeah, I guess Aelyon might come off that way, but you know… Be glad he's a guy, then. You never know what he'd be like if he was a 'she'… with periodic PMS.

**Yuichi:** Yup, you got it! But uh… I don't know… you sure about the pinching thing?

Okay, that's kind of it for a bit. I realize I never manage to update properly unless its holidays. Am I that busy? Like, _that_ busy…?

_Signing off,_

- Zemiah Dyterra


	12. Chapter 11

_**Chapter 11**_

It was dark. Dark enough that he couldn't see his own hand when he lifted it before his eyes. It wasn't that his eyes hadn't adjusted; the place was downright devoid of light. Even when he tilted his head as far back as it would go, he could not find a crack in the ceiling. Apparently, the crack he had fallen through had closed above him.

Slogras swore softly under his breath. This shouldn't have happened. He was a good fighter. Skilled and mighty—what else would a true warrior need?

But it was that witch. That damned Yunoan woman… It was all her fault. He couldn't get his eyes off her. Forget the irony that he hated her companion—and Yunoans as a whole. She was _beautiful_. Alluring. And that dream he had of her…

Yeah, it all distracted him enough to slow him down. And that was why the skeletons had managed to crowd around him. And that led to the ground beneath him caving in so quickly. Otherwise, he might've been able to make his way to the wall of the trench, where perhaps he could've found some handhold or whatnot.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, Slogras began to walk forward, his hands stretched out before him like a blind man. It didn't matter that he felt retarded doing it; no one was around to laugh at him.

But a quiet, eerie laughter _did_ filled the area. A feminine voice. High, but not shrill. The voice of a young woman.

Slogras froze in his tracks and spun about to face the direction where the voice seemed to be coming from, a scowl forming on his face.

"Who goes there?" he snarled, reaching blindly over his shoulder. He felt the reassuring smooth texture of his battle axe's shaft against his palm, and he grasped it tightly, ready to draw it in an instant if need be.

The laughter came again, but this time, upon dying down, the voice spoke.

"_Poor man. Are you lost?"_

"Who wouldn't be lost in this darkness?" Slogras retorted savagely. He waited for a moment, and then shouted, "Who are you?"

"_Oh, just a friend."_

"Friend?" Slogras snorted incredulously. "I doubt I know you."

"_Oh, but I know _you_."_

Slogras felt a chill run down his spine.

"What are you?" he whispered fearfully, suddenly aware that the person he was talking to was not very human.

"_Some would call me a demon,"_ the voice replied lightly, _"but you can call me an angel. Because I'm going to make your wildest dreams come true."_

/

Lune stirred, feeling a gentle pressure against her left shoulder. The pressure shifted further down her arm to squeeze it gently, and Lune's eyes opened slowly in response.

"X-Xetil?" she whispered into the darkness, recognising the pressure as a person's hand. She tried to prop herself up on her right arm, but let out a yelp as a sharp pain tore through it.

"Relax," she heard the person whisper. "Your bite wound isn't completely healed."

Lune nodded mutely—and then realized that the voice she heard belonged to Aelyon.

"A-Aelyon?" she hissed. A sudden urgency tore through her, and she quickly wrenched her arm from Aelyon's grasp.

"H-hey! Take it easy!" Aelyon protested. She heard him get to his feet, and she quickly got up as well. This was too dangerous. After that episode in the jungle, and now she had to be stuck alone with him in a cave… What luck.

"G-get away from me," Lune hissed, ignoring the pain in her arm as she scrambled away from him. "Don't touch me!"

"Alright, take it easy," Aelyon replied with a sigh. Lune could almost visualize him shrugging, with that wry look on his face, but the dark didn't give her an opportunity to confirm that.

The two spent a moment in silence, and, when Lune finally felt that he was not going to try anything weird with her there and then, she allowed herself to relax a little and asked, "So… where are we?"

"I don't know," Aelyon answered grimly, "but I'm guessing we're in the Mines of Mjolnir."

"The Mines?" Lune echoed.

"Yeah," Aelyon said. "It supposedly stretches from beneath the mountain to the Dead Pit. So I can think of only it, seeing as the only fact we know is that we're beneath the Dead Pit."

Lune nodded quietly. That sounded reasonable. But…

"Hey, you okay?"

Lune jerked, startled at Aelyon's sudden statement. And then she realized he couldn't have seen her nod in the dark.

"Yeah," Lune replied. She felt a 'sorry' begin to form in her mouth, but thought the better of it and remained silent.

"Alright. Anyway, I think we should move," Aelyon suggested. "I heard something moving further down this tunnel earlier. Didn't sound friendly; didn't sound far."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means I wanna avoid the thing if possible," Aelyon answered darkly.

"Okay, but how do you propose we find our way around in the dark?" Lune asked.

"Well, technically," Aelyon said thoughtfully, "I've been thinking of Tyferia's attack from before, and so attack strains came to mind."

"Uh huh," Lune intoned sceptically. "And so?"

"So since I'm quite proficient at the Magnum Break attack, I might be able to light up my sword if I tried to control its execution process," Aelyon answered.

Now Lune could almost make out that confident smirk.

"Fine, then," Lune asked with a scowl, "what's stopping you?"

"Uh," Aelyon cleared his throat, "it'll be the first time I ever tried to execute an attack strain."

"Oh, like things could get any worse," Lune groaned, slapping her forehead. So now she was going to risk getting blown to bits by him? Not a chance…

"Well, we won't get anywhere if we don't try, so here goes…"

"W-wait," Lune stuttered, stepping back in horror, "you don't intend to try right in front of me, are you?"

There was a sudden flash of light, and suddenly, the tunnel was illuminated by Aelyon's fiery blade. Breathing heavily, Lune hastily fought to slow her breathing, and glared at Aelyon furiously.

"Are you _insane_? I would've been blown to dust if you'd failed!" she snarled.

But Aelyon remained silent. And it wasn't until a moment later that Lune realized—he wasn't paying any attention to her. He wasn't even looking at her.

He was staring _past_ her.

Lune spun about just in time to see a tendril formed of miasma reach out to wrap itself around her neck. The sudden constriction of her windpipe caused Lune to choke, and the tendril only tightened about her neck.

But things didn't stay that way for long; Aelyon stepped past Lune and swung down at the tendril with his blade, and instantly, the miasma dispersed, releasing Lune.

Lune fell to her knees, gasping for breath, and had not even the time to look up before the sound of metal against metal rang throughout the tunnel. Lifting her eyes from the ground, Lune gazed into a mass of miasma which hovered in the air before Aelyon, a single shield orbiting about it at high speed.

"A Myst…?" she whispered blankly.

Aelyon ducked as a large hand extended from the mass of miasma and swung at his head, barely dodging the oversized slap, and even as it passed over him, he lashed out at the Myst's midsection, where the concentration of miasma seemed the most dense.

But the Myst's shield spiralled between Aelyon's target and his blade, deflecting the attack—before shooting into Aelyon's chest and knocking him backwards, winded.

Yet Aelyon flipped right back up, and, with a flourish, he raised his weapon high into the air and brought it down on the monster savagely.

The Myst let out what sounded like a shriek, and then the miasma dissipated, revealing a small, black orb which had been dissected by Aelyon's blade. The orb's two halves dropped to the ground an instant after its shield hit the earth, and, panting heavily, Aelyon brushed himself off, and turned to extend a hand.

"Here, get up," he offered.

Lune ignored his hand and stood up by herself.

"I'm fine," she said stiffly.

"Hmm, alright," Aelyon said nonchalantly, withdrawing his hand.

"So, was that what you heard?" Lune asked, gesturing at the Myst's remains.

"No," Aelyon replied slowly, "I heard something more… solid."

"Right," Lune muttered sourly. "Then I guess I agee with what you said earlier. We'd better get moving."

/

Slogras licked his lips as he made his way through the tunnels. He had never felt so… _alive_ before. And all that that woman—whoever she was—had given him was just a simple kiss.

"Just a token of my sincerity," she had said a moment before she kissed him, "in case you're still undecided about how trustworthy I am."

She was the voice from before—a beautiful young woman, with long, wavy black hair and startling emerald eyes. Her skin was pale, almost totally white, and—and her lips… luscious, full… _wonderful_.

But he was after someone else. And that woman promised her to him.

"Follow down this tunnel," that mysterious woman had said, indicating a passage way to him. "I will give your eyes a new power: one that can see through this dense darkness. Some ways down that passage, you shall find that Yunoan woman you so desire. Take her as your own. She will not resist you."

That's what she had said. And when she kissed him, his eyes opened—and he felt a new, ravenous hunger to dominate his target. To realize that dream from the night before.

He ran and ran, eagerly, hungrily—lustfully. What was so wrong about that? It was every man's right to wish to feel fulfilled, right? And who would say a word against him if she would really submit to him? Even as he would lay down with her, if the only resistance she would offer would be verbal, just as in his dream, what could anyone say against that?

"Take her, and she will forever be yours."

Yes, that's the last thing that strange woman said to him before he sprinted toward the event he had foreseen in his dream.

And, just as he had been told, there lay the Yunoan woman from his dream, at the mouth of a collapsed passageway leading off the passage he was currently sprinting through, one of her ankles bent at an unnatural angle.

Slogras slowed to a slow walk, but his breathing sped up with anticipation. Apparently, the Yunoan heard him, for she looked up, straining to see through the darkness.

"… Is that… Valyon?" she asked uncertainly, her voice wavering slightly, possibly from the pain in her broken ankle. Apparently, she was trying to recognise him by his footsteps.

She'd failed.

Slogras stopped mere feet away from her, his lips now dry. He couldn't even answer her; with his enhanced vision, she seemed so much more alluring than before. Or perhaps it was just him?

But that didn't matter. He was going to take her.

Now.

/

It was not the first time he heard that eerie laughter. He never said it aloud, but he was aware of it. He had been aware of it for awhile.

Tyferia tried to block it out. It was the last thing he needed right then. What was important right then was finding Rylaira. Despite the fact that they were just holding on to each other when the ground collapsed, Tyferia had awoken to find himself on the opposite side of a pile of rubble from Rylaira.

He'd been moving quickly through the Mines—he recognised the structure of the tunnels that much to be able to identify it as such—since then, trusting his sense of direction to lead him to his companion.

But then there was that laughter…

He had heard it the night before, at Tetra's camp. And he had also felt a downright malicious presence pass by his tent. Something had entered the campsite the night before.

And it had followed them right here.

The problem was that Tyferia could guess quite well what that thing was. It wasn't a young woman, much as it sounded like one. And, of course, had anyone set eyes on it, it would probably have looked like one, too.

And if his guess was correct, then he'd better get to Rylaira quickly. And then Lune, right after that. Otherwise…

"Oh, my, you sure are in a hurry, aren't you?"

Tyferia slowed to a halt and sighed.

"Finally stopped laughing now, have you?" he remarked quietly, turning his head slightly to indicate to the voice that he knew it was behind him.

"You search for she whom you love," the voice said softly, ignoring his remark, and it grew closer in proximity. "It makes me so very jealous."

"Don't be," Tyferia replied softly. "Those whom I love live a dangerous life—or die a painful death. There is nothing ideal in that."

"Except that they are loved anyway," the voice replied. A slender, pale hand reached out from behind Tyferia to rest on his shoulder, squeezing it softly.

"What is it you desire?" Tyferia asked coldly, paying no heed to the hand.

The voice chuckled; the hand withdrew. And a young, beautiful woman stepped past Tyferia to stand before him, donned in a translucent, almost transparent, white gown.

"Hmm… I desire you," the woman answered with a wry smile.

"Why?"

"Because you are the only person who is immune to my charm."

"Is that right?"

The woman nodded and reached up to place her hand against Tyferia's face, and sighed.

"I've seen the most handsome men," she said softly, "charming, intelligent, strong men… But they all give in to me at my command. You must understand that I cannot truly love someone who would swoon for me as soon as I ask him to. But you're different. You are the only one whose love I must _earn_. And as such…"

"Deceiver," Tyferia cut her off sharply. "You merely desire my power and life force."

The woman lowered her hand. And then she began to laugh again, shaking her head as if amused.

"Indeed, since you look so… delicious," she said softly, licking her lips—with a forked tongue. "I can sense so much power within you—an ever turbulent pool of energy… Sad that one such a you is immune to my influence."

"What do you intend to do to Rylaira, Succubus?" Tyferia asked quietly, "Take her hostage?"

"What does that girl have to do with anything?" the woman asked.

"A Succubus seeks to sleep with a man, and in so doing, drain him of his life force," Tyferia replied darkly. "And if you've already noted my immunity to your… immoral influence, I am sure you've prepared a plot of some sort to force me…"

"Force you?" the Succubus interrupted. "Oh, no, you misunderstand. You see, I have better plans for her. And when those plans have been executed, I wouldn't have to force you. You'd give yourself up willingly to me."

"I highly doubt that," Tyferia retorted.

"I wouldn't be so sure," the Succubus replied, her humanly form now melting away to reveal an even _more_ attractive woman, though with similar features—and horns, vampire-like fangs and a long gargoyle's tail. "My dear, do you know how we Succubae take possession of women?"

"By having them sleep with a man under the influence of the respective Succubus," Tyferia answered.

"Yes, well phrased," she said, licking her lips once more, "that's how we do it. What if I told you that right now, there is a certain man who would very, _very_ much like to… _violate_ your precious Rylaira?"

Realization dawned on Tyferia.

"That was what you were doing yesterday night," Tyferia murmured. "You entered the camp to poison someone's soul."

"Yes, that was me!" the Succubus exclaimed gleefully.

"… You're having someone… rape Rylaira," Tyferia said softly, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "All so you can possess her…"

"Oh, yes," the Succubus replied eagerly, "See, things would have been so much easier if I could have just influenced you to lay down with me. That way, even Rylaira need not have been involved. But Rylaira is needed now, because I can't threaten you with her unless I force you to decide between stopping me by _personally_ taking her life and doing as I command."

Tyferia drew his blade.

"Enough of your lies," he snarled, "I can discern your intentions well enough now to understand that not only me, but she too, was a target of yours. It was all about who you were going to use to possess her. Me, or…"

"Hmm… That's right," the Succubus affirmed. "Both of you were my targets from the start. You may blame your… excess of power for that. But it's really too bad that you truly, _truly_ love her. That made things so hard for me. Such a love is too pure for lust to coexist with it. And lust is the most required catalyst in the process of influencing a man…"

"Step aside," Tyferia ordered.

"I will, of course," the Succubus sneered, stepping to the side. And then she gestured, and a silhouette formed from within the darkness.

"I will," she repeated, "but _he_ won't."

Tyferia watched as the silhouette closed in on him. Tyferia scanned him through the darkness. The man was leanly built, just slightly larger than he was, with pale, sallow skin and an expressionless face. Strands of dishevelled hair hung down over his face, and he returned Tyferia's gaze bleakly.

"Have fun, my dear," the Succubus whispered to the man as she retreated past him. "Just remember. Don't kill him."

"… Understood," the man answered monotonously.

"Do this well, and I'll let you enjoy tonight."

The man's eyes widened—the first sign of self-consciousness. And then he turned to face Tyferia.

"… I understand."

/

**Character Profiles**

Name: Aelyon Telkast

Age: 18

D.O.B: 3rd January

Nationality: Pronteran

Skill Class: Knight

Profession: 9th Cavalry, 9th Division Lieutenant

Bio:

Aelyon was born into Telkast family: a family known for producing some of the finest Pronteran warriors in history, such as his older brother, Valyon.

Aelyon grew up to be a prodigious swordsman, and is well-known amongst his peers for his ferocious style of combat which incorporates both heavy swings and precise jabs. His combat ability earned him many admirers within the Pronteran Academy and the 9th Cavalry.

However, despite being well-versed in chivalry and other aspects of knighthood and courtly manners, Aelyon has been known to be arrogant, often looking down on members of classes lower than his. He is also brash and aggressive, and believes weapons and abilities exist simply to be used.

Aelyon is also known to see attacks and weapons independently of their wielders, often failing to attribute their capabilities to their wielder's power, often leading him to strive to acquire powerful weapons or learn special skills without realizing his potential inability to wield them.

** /**

**Glossary**

_Succubae and Incubi_

A Succubus or Incubus feeds on a person's power and life force by engaging him or her in sexual intercourse. This process usually drains the demon's prey so much so that the prey usually shrivels up and crumbles to dust moments after intercourse.

Succubae and Incubi do not just gain revitalization from such feedings, but some measure of power as well. As such, Succubae and Incubi who feed more than others (assuming the feedings supply them with approximately the same amount of power), would be more powerful, and could also have developed special abilities.

Among these demons' natural abilities is the ability to influence a being into submitting to their will. However, a necessary catalyst in this process is lust.

When a person lusts for someone, a Succubus or Incubus of the opposite gender from the lustful person would feed their lust. They would tend kiss the person, bestowing him or her with supernatural powers—and at the same time, placing them totally under their influence.

The bestowed supernatural powers are to enable them person to successfully engage with the person they lust after in sexual intercourse, during which the Succubus or Incubus would possess the person through the man or woman under their influence.

Now in possession of a host body, the Succubus or Incubus would respectively try to get pregnant or impregnate people, as they cannot do so in their natural form. Succubae often abandon their host upon impregnation, so as to not suffer the complications of the following nine months leading to childbirth.

Children born from a woman impregnated during her time as a Succubus' host, or from a woman impregnated by an Incubus' host would begin to develop Succubus or Incubus features in their adolescence, and would eventually become an Incubus or Succubus, depending on gender.

However, pure Succubae or Incubi (meaning, having been born of a woman impregnated by an Incubus' host while serving as a Succubus' host) are born already with demonic features, and are much more powerful than their more common half-bred counterparts, although the opposite could happen if the child's parents are powerful (this is why Succubae and Incubi usually seek to possess powerful individuals).

** /**

**Author's Notes:**

Alright! Finally, another chapter done. No excuses again, but I'll stop giving estimates of when the next update will be. Doesn't mean I'll stop writing altogether, don't worry.

Anyway, this chapter wasn't easy to write. For one thing, I wanted to think up my own versions of how Succubae and Incubi work in my story… thus the glossary. And there's plenty of plot segments to cover up after a cliff-hanger such as the one I introduced in the previous chapter, since it involved just about all the characters, and that made me feel like I was jumping a lot here from perspective to perspective and scene to scene.

But if you'd realize, this is the only chapter by far wherein Xetil does _not_ make an appearance except in vocal references! Yup, sorry if you're a fan of his, but no worries; he _is_ the main character—he won't be gone for long!

Right, so, just in case people are still a bit loss about how Tyferia is immune to the Succubus' influence, let me clear it up.

First and foremost, it is _not_ because Tyferia is written to be an overpowered character. He isn't. You'll see in future chapters. But it is merely because, as the glossary and story above states, he lacks _lust_.

Secondly, Tyferia is _already_ aware of the nature of the 'evil spirit' lurking about, as well as its presence, although he could not confirm its nature until meeting it face to face.

So yeah, is that enough? Ha-ha! Right, to the reviewers now…

**Ai: **Hah, but Xetil _is_ smart. I wrote him to seem a bit naïve, though, so I guess I'm successful at that! Sorry about the cliff. Couldn't resist. Couldn't resist making _another_ cliffy today.

**Yuutsu:** 'Yuutsu' _is_ supposed to be your given name, right, since I take it as a Japanese name? Ha-ha, always good to see a new reviewer. Anyway, it's alright without a signed review, but I _do_ want reviews! Long reviews, short reviews… They're all nice to read and mull over. Sometimes we writers just need to be shown that our work is appreciated, even if we feel it's inadequate. It really motivates us to keep writing. You'll know if you really give writing a go—and really, do try it; it's the sort of thing you'll never know you can do until you do it. And don't be afraid of the dictionary when you write—it'll be your best buddy! Anyway, no worries about the review length! (P.S. Personally, I don't feel like I have the best story out of all these countless other talented authors, but… well, we all have our opinions! Might be just me and my low self-esteem!)

Right, that's that, then… Now, where did Yuichi go…?

_Signing off,_

- Zemiah Dyterra


	13. Chapter 12

_**Chapter 12**_

Xetil woke up to a world of darkness and silence. For a long while, he simply lay still, his senses working hard to prove to his mind that they were still functioning.

_Drip._

Xetil blinked as a droplet of water landed on his face, right between his eyes. Well, at least his ears had heard that. But his eyes continued to stare into blank space. Or, maybe they weren't even staring at all. He couldn't even see any difference between when his eyes were closed and when they weren't.

Taking a deep breath, the young Pronteran slowly pushed himself off the floor and carefully got to his feet. Without his sight, it was hard to keep his balance, somehow.

He turned a full circle, wondering where he should—or could—go, and as he did so, his right heel struck a small pebble. The pebble clattered loudly in the silence.

"Who's there?"

The cry resounded off the walls loudly, and Xetil barely had time to react before a bright light assaulted his eyes. He felt the sharpness of someone's shoulder slamming heavily into his stomach—a tackle—and the next thing he knew, he was tumbling down a steep slope, locked with someone in a violent embrace.

They tumbled for a long moment—and then the ground levelled, and Xetil felt his breath leave his lungs as he landed flat on his back.

/

Tyferia gritted his teeth and hopped back as his opponent lashed out at him suddenly, a long katana—no, an _Iaito_—materializing in his hand.

Placing himself at a safe distance from his enemy, Tyferia examined the dishevelled man. The man's weapon was an _Iaito_, a katana designed specially for the _Iaido_ style: the deadly quick-draw style katana masters were famed for.

_But, if that's the case…_

Tyferia switched his gaze to his opponent's left hand, and sure enough, a scabbard had materialized in that hand. This man was a master of _Iaido_.

Even as Tyferia watched, the man flourished his blade and slid it back into its scabbard, and then crouched low.

_Now._

Tyferia reached across his torso with his left hand and matched his opponent's quick-draw attack with his own, their katana clashing against each other violently.

A horrible shudder flew through Tyferia's left arm from his katana's hilt. He had avoided injury by challenging the man's technique, but at the same time, the force of the attack had immobilized his sword-arm—long enough for the enemy to rush forward, executing yet another quick-draw.

But Tyferia was far from done. _Iaido_ was a style that used the scabbard to hold the blade back while the slash was executed. In other words, the entire force and speed of the attack would be unleashed at the end of the user's slash, when the sword tip finally leaves the sheath fully, releasing the accumulated force in a catapulting motion. So if he could just prevent the sword from leaving it's sheath…

Well, that was simple.

Tyferia closed the distance between them with a sudden slide-in, and slammed his right palm down on his opponent's sword-arm's wrist, holding his slash at bay.

The man's eyes widened, and even as he tried to retreat, Tyferia angled his blade and slashed at the man with an upwards, diagonal stroke.

The man managed to evade the slash for the most part, but was forced to raise his scabbard, with his weapon still within it, to deflect Tyferia's follow-up combination.

Seven times Tyferia's blade struck the man's scabbard, forcing the man to back-pedal frantically to avoid the deadly flurry of killer strokes.

But as Tyferia's last attack came, the man lifted his scabbard high, pivoting in a clockwise direction as he deflected Tyferia's last strike.

Tyferia's eyes widened as he realized his opponent's tactic, and leapt backwards as the man came around with yet another wide quick-draw attack which missed his face by a mere inch.

Tyferia landed an instant after the man's blade returned to its sheath, ready to be drawn yet again. Relaxing his shoulders, Tyferia sighed and allowed his eyes to scan his opponent yet again.

The man was fast, no doubts there. Yet, for all his speed, he wouldn't match Tyferia's attack rate no matter how hard he tried. The speed he was achieving was a result of his quick-draw technique, which meant that he couldn't strike consecutively at that speed. Only his quick-draw attacks would have that power and that speed.

Under normal circumstances against such an opponent, the best strategy would be either to prevent the sword from leaving or returning to its sheath.

But Tyferia knew this opponent was different. While Tyferia had once prevented his blade from leaving its sheath, the man had altered his strategy, spinning so he could begin his attack from a position where Tyferia could not stop his blade the same way he had before.

Also, Tyferia had not hopped a great distance to evade that strike, and yet, his opponent was fast enough to sheath his weapon completely before Tyferia's feet had returned to the ground.

This man was a _master_. He relied solely on one technique. He was a specialist, and Tyferia could appreciate specialization.

He, too, was a specialist, after all.

Raising his katana, Tyferia closed his eyes, focusing a portion of his power in his blade. His opponent must have realized what he was doing, because Tyferia heard him rush forward.

The whoosh of his opponent's blade leaving its sheath was unmistakable—but Tyferia weapon came down on the incoming blade with a flash of icy blue energy.

This time bolstered by magical energy, Tyferia's attack matched his opponent's evenly, and they ended their respective techniques in a draw.

Well, a draw, that is, save the fact that Tyferia had the advantage this time; he was not required to regain any distance before attacking.

Tyferia took the offensive, lashing out at the man's face mercilessly. The man raised his scabbard to deflect Tyferia's attack, and then spun about to deflect Tyferia's next move with his blade.

Tyferia felt the man's wrist bend as their blades clashed. As expected, the man wasn't quite as strong as before, now that he was forced to fight without his quick-draw technique.

Tyferia upped his rate of attack, clearing five strokes in less than a second, and then suddenly spun about to deliver a spinning back kick to the man's face.

The man dodged to the side and lashed down at Tyferia's vulnerable back—but the Yunoan easily deflected the attack, twisting his left hand behind his back to angle his weapon upwards defensively.

Unfurling his arm, Tyferia countered with a wide, horizontal swing—and then spun to deliver another kick, this one a wide, slashing kick that followed in his sword's path.

The swing knocked his opponent's blade aside—and opened him up long enough for Tyferia's kick to connect with the man's jaw, sending him stumbling down the tunnel.

Tyferia pressed on, stepping forward with a quiet ferocity. His opponent looked up just in time to see his raised blade, and reacted quickly, crossing his scabbard and blade over his head to catch Tyferia's downward stroke.

Using the upward force of his opponent's defence, Tyferia leapt, executing a low somersault kick which connected with his opponent's jaw once more.

The attack sent the man staggering back—and Tyferia came right at him with a spinning aerial heel drop which slammed into his left shoulder, dislocating it.

The man howled in agony, his scabbard clattering to the ground, and frantically waved his blade before him, warding Tyferia off. Tyferia obliged his defensive attempts, stepping back quickly and retaking his stance.

Tyferia allowed his body to relax slightly. Such extended strings of combinations usually impose immense tolls upon one's body. But that was all fine. It paid off. His opponent no longer could execute quick-draws. Not with one hand and no scabbard.

But even as Tyferia watched warily, his opponent's left arm began to emit miasma, and Tyferia watched as the man began to scream as his shoulder relocated itself with a series of loud, violent cracks.

The miasma dissipated, and the man, breathing heavily, stooped down to scoop his scabbard from the ground, sheathing his blade within it.

_Spontaneous regeneration, _Tyferia thought to himself darkly. _He's no longer even human, then._

It was not unheard of for Succubae and Incubi to keep some of their victims as personal slaves or toys—or even as sources of food, for humans continually generate magical energy as long as they still draw breath. So it was only natural to deduce that this man was such a victim, sustained by his demonic mistress.

Except, he apparently wasn't just a slave or food source. He might not even be either. He was a _bodyguard_. And demons rarely kept bodyguards, unless they recognised and respected the combat prowess residing in one.

But that he had dropped to the point where even his body had begun to mutate… that probably meant that the Succubus had gone to extra lengths to ensure his ability to protect her. She hadn't just fed off him, but even as she took in his life force, she'd injected some of her own power into him, empowering him with her own tainted powers.

And this was the result: a mindless puppet with immense power.

"Pitiful."

The word escaped Tyferia's lips quietly as he flourished his weapon and assumed his own stance. Time was running out. He was going to kill this man. Sympathy would be wasted on such a defect of nature.

Neither warrior moved for a long moment…

And then, a loud clash resounded through the tunnel. Only a few falling sparks in the air between the two warriors could give testimony to the fact that their blades had clashed, for both had already returned to their respective stances, giving the illusion that they had not even moved.

Tyferia shifted his footing slightly. That was too close. In the instant he had made his move, his opponent had lashed out, coming just short of slashing Tyferia's forehead right as Tyferia's attack struck his blade.

It was close enough to stop Tyferia from continuing into a combination. The man was not taking chances any more. Not after his arm had been dislocated.

_And relocated,_ Tyferia reminded himself dryly.

The silence remained for awhile longer—and then Tyferia stepped forward yet again, his blade flashing.

His opponent executed another quick-draw, but this time, he altered its angle, lashing out in an arc so the slash evolved into a vertical stroke from above.

Tyferia reacted immediately, cancelling his attack and lashing upwards blindly. The two blades clashed, slowing Tyferia's opponent's slash long enough for him to grasp the man's sword arm in his free right hand.

But this time, it was his opponent who surprised him. Tyferia's eyes widened as he heard the man's empty scabbard clatter to the ground an instant before the man's now-free left hand reach out, as if to grasp his face.

Tyferia jerked back—but the man unleashed a blast of purplish energy from within his palm. Gritting his teeth, Tyferia released the man's arm and caught the blast with his right hand, deflecting it to the side.

He managed it with some effort—and then let out a splutter and staggered back as his opponent kicked his heavy scabbard off the ground and into his chest, catching it as it rebounded. Tyferia shuffled his feet to regain his balance and looked up just as the man executed another quick-draw attack.

This time, Tyferia fell flat to the ground, beneath the attack, his hands suspending his chest a mere two inches off the ground, and then executed a forward flip, his arms pushing hard off the ground as he went perpendicular to the ground, propelling himself up and over his opponent. Tyferia landed with a smooth pirouette, so as to remain facing his opponent upon landing.

But there was yet another strike heading his way, and Tyferia continued his whirling motion as he dropped into a low crouch, ducking under the attack as he lashed out at his opponent's feet.

But the man evaded that attack with an aerial cartwheel, soaring over Tyferia's weapon gracefully. Both swordsmen whirled about once more—and Tyferia's flashing blade collided with his opponent's quick-draw attack once more.

But Tyferia did not wait to allow the clash to descend into a deadlock; he channelled yet another burst of energy through his weapon, blasting his opponent backwards, and then pressed the offensive, rushing forward.

"_Sonic…_"

Tyferia slowed as he heard his opponent speak, and his eyes widened as his opponent's weapon began to glow a venomous green.

"… _Blow._"

A series of eight quick-draw strikes came at Tyferia, who angled his sword to the side, bracing the back of its blade against his right palm. Blue light engulfed the weapon as his opponent's sword clashed against it viciously, repeatedly.

And then the man slid backwards, sheathing his weapon yet again, and waited.

Tyferia fought to maintain his footing, his right palm burning; his left wrist searing. He had not expected such a technique strain: Sonic Blow… with a katana.

Forcefully calming himself, Tyferia sighed and straightened.

"I suppose there's no longer point in taking this lightly," he remarked, sliding his sword back into its scabbard, "so let's close the curtain on this duel."

His opponent did not reply, but merely watched. Tyferia shrugged. He was fine with that. He really should not have allowed this battle to drain so much of his time. Rylaira needed him. So…

"_Resound, Final Note."_

A flash of blue. And then silence.

/

Xetil struggled. Despite his lack of breath, honed instinct had kicked him into action, and Xetil fought to roll both him and his assailant over to reverse his assailant's straddling position over him.

Xetil's assailant struggled to maintain his position over him, but he was somewhat small, and definitely weaker than Xetil. Xetil grasped the person's wrist and slowly forced it off his shoulder, and, once he had forced the person off him far enough to provide him with enough room to manoeuvre his legs, Xetil kicked upwards, knocking his assailant to the side.

Without wasting a moment, Xetil rolled over, and the two brawlers' chests met as Xetil threw himself onto his opponent to straddle him.

In an instant, the fight was over. No sound was heard, save the heavy breathing of both fighters. Xetil felt his opponent's chest heave against his with each breath, and frowned.

_Are those…?_

Xetil warily released one of his captive's wrists, which he had captured as he claimed the upper hand, and slowly reached downwards. He felt his opponent's stomach—flat, but supple; lightly toned—and slowly eased his hand upwards, to…

"A… girl?" he murmured quietly.

He blinked, trying to make out the silhouette beneath him in the darkness. The person beneath him continued to breathe heavily, and the breath that played across Xetil's face suddenly felt… _sensual_.

"A girl," Xetil said again, this time with more certainty.

What was a girl doing in the mines all alone? Xetil remembered that there were no women miners, and besides, from what he could feel, her build was far too slight to be that of a miner's…

His assailant said something from beneath him, breaking his chain of thought, and he intoned questioningly.

"I said, get your hands off me," his assailant said slowly, threateningly, "You… you pervert!"

"Pervert?" Xetil exclaimed, offended. "Now, wait just a minute!"

The girl suddenly struck him across the face with the hand he had released, and then she began to struggle. Xetil pressed himself down on her in an attempt to restrain her, and in doing so, he felt his hand—the one on his assailant's chest—squeeze a certain mound of flesh.

He suddenly realized exactly what it was he had touched—and squeezed—and he instantly regretted it.

'Instantly' wasn't quite as immediate as the girl's reaction, though.

The girl yelped and, now very much frenzied, somehow found the strength to wrestle him off her. The sole of her foot found purchase in Xetil's solar plexus as she shoved him off her.

Xetil gasped and retreated off her, panting heavily from the pain in his abdomen, but as he heard the girl get to her feet, he quickly raised his hands and patted the air in a placating manner.

No use, though. It was too dark.

The girl's foot struck his chest again, knocking him over.

Wheezing in pain, Xetil fought for breath and rasped, "Wait... wait, wait… _Wait_!"

To his relief, the girl's foot did not find a place in his stomach or on his nose, and he let out a sigh of relief, allowing his head to fall back onto the cold ground.

"… Pervert," the girl said from above him with a huff. "Serve's you right."

Xetil ignored her indignation. Wincing, he pushed himself into a sitting position and said, "I'm sorry, alright? I… I didn't mean to… to _touch_ you or anything…"

"Touch me? You just _robbed_ me of my _modesty_!"

"Don't step on me!" Xetil cried, covering his head with his hands instinctively, bracing himself.

For a long moment, there was silence. And then the girl begun to giggle.

"W-what…?" Xetil asked, peeping out from beneath his arms. Now his eyes had adjusted slightly, and he could make out the girl's figure in the dark. And she was shaking.

With laughter, apparently.

"What so funny?" Xetil asked indignantly.

"Shut up, you pervert," she said as her laughter died down. And then she sighed and said, "I guess I tackled you early. I'm sorry. I thought you might've been a monster."

_That would explain why she didn't wait for an answer,_ Xetil thought grimly, _but still…_

"What kind of girl in her right mind would tackle a _monster_?"

"I don't know," the girl replied, "It's just… ugh, forget it. I'm Tyétha, by the way. What's your name?"

"… Xetil," Xetil answered. "So… Theta...?"

"Tyétha," the girl corrected.

"Tyétha," Xetil echoed. "Okay… What are you doing down here?"

"Well, my squad was scouting around in the Dead Pit when the whole place began to shake. And then the ground caved in and… I found myself here."

"Scouting around…?" Xetil echoed thoughtfully. "Oh! You must be one of the scouts from the 9th Cavalry sent here yesterday morning!"

"9th Cavalry?"

"Yeah! But… I thought the lot of you had reported back to General Tetra already…"

"Uh… We came back!" the answer came quickly. "Yup… We're scouts. There are always some of us around sites of interest, right?"

"Yeah, I knew it!" Xetil exclaimed. He sighed with relief. Yet another comrade… He felt so fortunate at such times. At least he wasn't alone in the darkness.

But before he could continue the conversation, the entire mine started to shake.

"A-another earthquake?" Tyétha stammered, frightened. Xetil felt, more than saw, her drop to a wary crouch next to him.

"I don't think so," Xetil replied, raising his voice so he could be heard over the low rumbling of the cave, "but…"

Xetil was cut off by a loud, high-pitched whine—like an immense gust of wind forcing itself through a tiny hole, only far louder—which entered the passage he and Tyétha were currently in.

Xetil screamed what seemed to be a soundless cry to himself as he clamped his palms over his ears, and next to him, he saw Tyétha do the same.

And he was captivated by the beauty before him: semi-long light-coloured hair tied back in a ponytail and a face with young, smooth features which showed only the slightest wrinkles despite the fact that the girl had her eyes clamped shut, as if it would help keep out the sound.

_I… can see?_

The stray question came to his mind, and suddenly, he realized that a faint light had entered the passage, and, turning to face its source, Xetil beheld a fearsome sight.

Fumes of bright blue energy were rushing down along the passage—forerunners of a much larger wave of energy, which was further down the passage but steadily getting brighter as it came closer.

The light it produced alerted Xetil to the fact that he and Tyétha were in an area of the passage which levelled sharply from a slope—which was where the two had tumbled down from earlier.

They were trapped in the passage between a steep slope and a huge wave of potentially deadly energy.

The energy wave grew ever closer, and, crying out Tyétha's name—once more in a voice he himself could not hear—Xetil leapt upon her to shield her from the blast. The blast struck his back, and a flash of blue light filled his vision.

And then silence.

/

**Author's Notes:**

This… marks… the end… of my constant stream of school projects. First the three week project, and then three-month internship, and then three-month Final Year Project. Oh, if you're wondering, I'm a third year Polytechnic student.

Yeah, final year of Polytechnic. Final year of school life, too, unless I decide to enter university, which… I think I might.

Anyway, this chapter is months—_months—__**months**_ overdue, and I'm so very sorry for it. It could've been done earlier, before that string of projects, but I was picky about how I wrote it.

And then I overshot, and projects entered my peaceful life and took the peace out of it. And even piano time out of it.

_How could they?_

Well, whatever… It's over now. So yeah! I'll go to the reviewers now. I hope they'll still read…

**All:** Formal apology. I'm really sorry for making you all wait. I do hope you'll all continue to read. There are times when I might take awhile, and I know that this story has dragged on so long despite having only so few chapters!

Yes! It's over two years old! I think. It's at least one and a half. Oh, it's _almost_ two years old. Hmm… But please continue to read. If you got me on MSN, feel free to chat about it. And yes, I don't mind you hurrying me! Just… don't do it Ai's way. She has… well, I don't know how to put it, but she's got a way about doing it. Just by herself, that method's fine, but if I get two people doing it that way…

**Yuutsu:** Hey, you haven't tried writing a story yet? After all this time? Hah, no matter… Well, about the dream, it was planned out to be a surprise, but whose dream did you think it was? Just curious, hah! Hmm, I… don't really have a real life basis for Xetil's character (unlike most of the other characters, whose personalities are quite literally the translation of some people I know in real life into a fantasy setting). I just wanted to make him what we would consider a model knight while retaining his youthful attitude and the tendencies he developed from living a sheltered life as a noble. So yeah, I'm glad you enjoy him (though personally, I would sometimes like to throw someone like that off a cliff. Splats won't do, though. Maybe a thud. Loud.) As for Tyferia… I shan't tell you who he's based off, but I wrote him to be someone people would like as a fictional character, but utterly _hate_ if they knew him personally in real life. These kind of characters just have that irony about them, but I won't shield that fact in my writing style. It'll make him a little too unnatural otherwise.

**Ai:** 'Touch and go' is more of what I did last time I posted a chapter… Good ideas rarely take place, by the way. Only in the mind. The Matrix disproves that, though. Anyway, yeah, it's longer _still_ this time. So sorry, really… I guess you might have regretted saying, "Take your time," hah!

**Yuichi: **Sorry… for the uber late update. Reviews are good _anytime_. As long as they come. And now you're stuck doing _your_ Final Year Project. Oh well. Luckily, your namesake in my story doesn't know what 'Final Year Project' is. He's still gonna shoot stuff.

**Lushard:** Yeah, I'm continuing. You chose an interesting time to review. Hmm… Xetil with Rylaira…? I guess you mean after the cave-in, and not as in a character pairing. Oh, _oh_… I think I know what you're really talking about. Hah, anyway, nice to have a new reviewer. Thanks for prompting a continuation. Hope you enjoy!

Well, that's it for all of you but… well, if you realize, there's no longer a division between the scenarios in each chapter. Last time, it used to be a pattern of equal signs and hyphens alternating, but I think this site changed the page or text formatting and auto-deleted them sometime when I was away.

Currently, all my chapters and documents use that division, so do excuse me if they fail to show up on your browser and make reading a bit difficult. I'll try to change all of them and re-upload them. But gosh, that's gonna be some work… Shall put slashes for the newer chapters in the meantime.

_Signing off,_

Zemiah Dyterra


	14. Chapter 13

_**Chapter 13**_

Tyferia let out a ragged breath as he dropped to his knees. With a shaking hand, he quickly untied his scabbard from his belt and lodged its end in the ground.

And none too late, either; Tyferia felt his legs give way entirely and he keeled over forward. Letting out an agonized cry, he forced himself to stay upright, leaning against his weapon as an old man would a staff.

Tyferia took a slow, unsteady breath with great effort, barely managing to stay conscious in the process. He really shouldn't have done what he'd done. He had totally forgotten what it was like to wield that power.

And his body paid the price for his recklessness.

Yet, it had served its purpose, it would seem. From beneath heavy lids, Tyferia could see his opponent, lying face down on the ground, dead motionless, his right hand clasping a hilt connected to a broken blade.

As Tyferia watched, the _Iaito_ disintegrated into wisps of violet energy that quickly faded away into the darkness.

_He's dead, then,_ the Yunoan thought to himself grimly. Well, that solved one problem. But he still had to get to Rylaira.

Grimacing, Tyferia pushed himself to his feet, staggering slightly as he shifted his bodyweight off his makeshift staff and back on his feet.

Looking up resolutely at the darkness before him, Tyferia made his way forward.

/

Panting heavily, Slogras pushed himself off the ground. He didn't know what that blast was, but it had certainly been a terrifying thing.

However, for what it was worth, the blast wasn't very harmful. It was essentially just a huge burst of raw energy which was not the least bit concentrated. Sure, the sound it produced was quite horrible, and the sight of it was horrifying to say the least.

But Slogras couldn't care.

He was _furious_.

Because things between him and his victim were _just_ getting _hot_.

He turned back to where he had left Rylaira on the ground, her lips somewhat swollen from his voracious kissing and her dress now rather tattered about the neck and shoulder.

He had just about decided they'd gone far enough to get things to the next level, but even as he had prepared to rip her dress off her to steal a sight he was sure few—if any—had ever beheld, that horrible outpouring of energy had interrupted him.

But he would _not_ accept any more distractions or setbacks. Wetting his lips, he retook his straddling position over Rylaira, resting his shin down on the thigh of her good leg, comfortably aware that her other leg could not move without experiencing intense agony around her injured ankle.

But, just like in his dream, she had not resisted up to this point. And then, now _unlike_ his dream, not even vocally. She had merely let out a startled gasp when he had immediately pushed her down and straddled her the instant he arrived, and even as he kissed her, she did not do so much as attempt to push him away. She merely went limp in his arms, leaving him to have his way with her.

It frustrated Slogras; made him feel as if he were violating a simple doll than an actual woman. So he fought to get some reaction out of her in this foreplay, deciding that he wouldn't be satisfied with just raping her.

He wanted her to _feel_ it, and _enjoy_ it. It would make him feel so much more successful that way. Forced pleasure and enjoyment seemed to have that effect. But even then, he had not gotten so much as a moan from her. For what it was worth, he'd rather she struggled when he finally violated her in the deepest manner. At least that would make him feel like he'd conquered her body, if not her mind.

Letting out a frustrated grunt, he glared at the woman beneath him and hissed, "Do you know what I'm going to do to you?"

"… I know."

"Then why aren't you struggling?"

Rylaira didn't even look up at him.

"Because I can't."

Slogras took a moment to process her words, and then a malicious grin formed on his face. So her lack of resistance was owing to her understanding of the difference between their respective powers. If so…

"Then I _have_ conquered you," he murmured with satisfaction, reaching for the remains of her collar, feeling for a tear to rip her dress entirely into two, but even as he found one, Rylaira spoke, "No…"

For a moment, Slogras thought she was whimpering at what she probably knew he was just about to do, but her tone implied something else.

Slogras paused.

"What?"

"You haven't conquered me," Rylaira replied. She looked up at him, and he froze with fear.

"W-what is this?" he stuttered, getting to his feet quickly and stepping away from Rylaira.

"You must have noticed: I sincerely detest killing people," Rylaira said softly. She remained lying on the ground, but kept her eyes on him. "… And I can't struggle without killing you."

Slogras stared at her in horror, shaking his head.

"What the… hell are you?"

Rylaira didn't answer.

Her eyes were glowing violet.

/

Lune stared as the last few wraiths hovering before her and Aelyon turned about frantically and fled. Whatever it was, that blast that had come from behind her and Aelyon had succeeded in scaring every single one of them away, although it had been quite unsuccessful in obliterating anything.

"I dunno what just happened, but I'd like to thank whoever caused that blast," Lune said dryly.

"Agreed, though my ears are filled with ceremonial bells now," Aelyon commented, pressing his palm against his ear testily. "What do you suppose that was?"

"The hell would I know?" Lune hissed irritably. She turned to look down the passage where the blast had come from and said thoughtfully, "I felt that there was something somewhat… familiar about that blast, though."

"Signature traces?" Aelyon asked.

"Huh?"

"You know, the traces of energy flow found in magic? Kind of like a fingerprint found in spells cast by people," Aelyon explained.

"I _know_ what signature traces are," Lune snapped. "But, I'm not that attuned to actually read them. Though I suppose I might be able to feel their patterns vaguely."

"So… is that what's familiar?"

"I'm not sure," Lune admitted. "But let's try to find the source, though."

"Whoa, but what if it's…" Aelyon trailed off, as if lost for words.

Lune shrugged impatiently and said, "Look, I don't know either, okay? But whatever it was, it must've scared everything away from it—like those wraiths that we were fighting. So there'll be less monsters that way, too."

"But it might be something _we_ ought to be scared about too, right?" Aelyon reasoned grimly.

"Find an exit by yourself, then. I'll be fine alone."

Aelyon seemed stunned by her statement. But he chuckled and shrugged.

"I think I'll stick around," he said. "Just in case."

Lune let out a mental sigh. She'd hoped he'd really go off and leave her alone. But…

"Uh, Lune…"

She felt Aelyon grasp her upper arm, and she instantly tried to pull away, but his grasp was tight, and, struggle as she might, she couldn't quite break free.

"Aelyon!" Lune hissed warningly, preparing to slap him, but she paused as she got a good look at him. He was mouthing soundlessly at her, as if trying to speak but not quite managing it.

"A-Aelyon, what's going on with you?" Lune whimpered, frightened, as Aelyon pushed her against the tunnel wall.

"I… don't know," Aelyon said in a forced voice, but he grasped her other hand with his free hand, immobilizing it as well, and then leaned in, pressing his lips against her neck.

Lune's entirely body went stiff.

_What's going on?_

_Aelyon is kissing me… my neck… Why?_

_Get off… get off, get off, get off!_

And then a figure appeared out of the darkness behind Aelyon, and Lune stared in horror at it.

"Succubus," she gasped, recognising it from artwork in various books regarding monsters she had read.

The otherworldly beauty flicked a lock of raven hair over her shoulder as she walked over to stand next to Aelyon, who paid no heed to her.

"Poor boy… He certainly _does_ crave for you so," the Succubus murmured, clucking her tongue as she reached out with a clawed hand to stroke Aelyon's face, which was angled to the side to give him better access to Lune's neck.

"W-what did you do to him?" Lune growled at the Succubus, squirming uncomfortably under Aelyon's sensual licking.

"Oh, I merely set his cravings free," the Succubus said with a shrug. "It's sad, but I don't think I'd manage to claim my original target… But then you'll do just fine."

Lune grimaced as the Succubus reached up to stroke her face.

"I'll do just fine for what?" Lune asked warily.

"Not for, _as_," the Succubus corrected coyly, "As… my _host_."

"I'll never…"

"Are you so sure you have a choice?" the Succubus interrupted. She laughed and shook her head, as if berating a naughty child, then said, "I have the power to claim you… Through him, of course. But… just something to ease things along quicker. It'll also let you enjoy things a little bit more…"

The Succubus playfully tapped Lune's forehead with her forefinger, and instantly, Lune felt her face flush and her knees go weak as a sudden pleasure radiated from where Aelyon kissed her neck, eliciting a hungry moan from the girl.

"There now, you'll…"

The Succubus stopped abruptly, and her body jerked violently as the tip of a sword emerged from her chest.

The pleasure disappeared as quickly as it came, and Lune suddenly found the strength to push Aelyon off her. Aelyon stumbled backwards, shaking his head and blinking frantically as if waking up from a trance.

"What is this?" the Succubus whimpered as the sword pushed its way further out of her chest.

"Judgement," a voice behind the Succubus replied icily. "Served by blade to a demon."

"Brother!" Aelyon gasped.

From within the shadows, Valyon emerged, peering over the Succubus' shoulder so she could meet his gaze.

"… You," she hissed vehemently. "I should've… paid more attention to you…"

"But you were so preoccupied with everyone else, weren't you?" Valyon finished for her, sneering. "How sad."

"This is… not the end. Even if the chance is slight, there's still…"

"Slogras?" Valyon asked. "Oh, don't worry about him. He won't do much to the Yunoan lady. Or rather, he won't be able to."

"You… never know," the Succubus retorted. "If you kill me now, my conscience will transfer to what power I placed within him… And then…"

"Oh, but I _do _know about that. After all…"

Valyon gave his sword a violent jerk, and the Succubus' mouth went wide; a silent scream.

"After all, it doesn't matter since my plan stays unchanged: I'm going to kill what's left of you that resides in him. Now."

/

Slogras howled as a searing pain tore through his head, forcing him to his knees.

_Lay down with her! Now!_

He didn't know where the voice came from, but he knew it was in his head. It echoed painfully through his mind, and he felt a compulsive urge to obey it.

But, as he forced his eyes open to steal a peek at Rylaira, he was overcome with terror once again. The woman's eyes still had that otherworldly glow.

She can't _possibly_ be human…

_I don't care! Take her now! If you don't, everything we've done would be in vain!_

Slogras screamed in agony as the voice in his head seared a painful line across his conscious mind. He wanted it to stop, but…

_Do it!_

Slogras shook his head, his eyes watering, but the voice repeated, _Do it! Do it _now_!_

Pain drove the captain insane, and, letting out a cry of anguish, he let go of what little control over his body he had left, giving in to the animalistic lust that had been momentarily overshadowed by his fear of the Yunoan woman's eerie eyes.

After all, insanity knew no fear.

Slogras got on top of Rylaira once again and tore at her clothes randomly, vaguely targeting her thighs, but before he could reveal her undergarments, much less rip them off, a blade entered his field of vision, and he leapt off Rylaira, spinning about to glare at his attacker.

Tyferia stood, panting heavily, a metre away from Rylaira, his weapon—its edge badly chipped and bent—clasped firmly in his left fist.

"Get… your loathsome hands… off… her…" he snarled.

Slogras could no longer even reply in a humane way; he let out a roar, managing a sound somewhere near draconic, and rushed at Tyferia, drawing his battle axe as he closed the distance between them.

Tyferia watched him with narrowed eyes—and then flung his empty scabbard at Slogras' face. The captain let out a splutter as the scabbard struck his face—and then screamed as Tyferia's weapon drew a deep cut down his forehead and across his left eye, blinding it.

Slogras swung his weapon before him in a frenzy, but even as Tyferia retreated, the seemingly exhausted Yunoan warrior stumbled.

His right leg had given way for some reason unknown to Slogras.

Not that he cared.

Slogras' next strike sent Tyferia flying into the wall of the tunnel, and he let out a victorious cry like that of a male animal, triumphant over another male in a contest to claim a mate.

Tyferia coughed out a short stream of blood, and then slumped down the wall into a sitting position, devoid of strength.

Cackling wildly, Slogras raised his axe—and brought it down on a pink, protective bubble that blazed to life around the Yunoan warrior. Startled, Slogras stepped back. And then turned his gaze—now mono-eyed—on Rylaira with rage.

"Don't try to stop me!" he screamed at her, somehow managing to form words despite his otherworldly rage, and used the haft of his weapon to strike her across the face.

Rylaira cried out in pain as the blow connected. Tossing his weapon aside, Slogras straddled the woman. He reached for the shredded remains of the dress's skirt again.

And a blade impaled itself upon his arm.

Slogras let out another roar of outrage. He'd had just enough of disruptions. Reaching over with his free hand, Slogras ripped the blade out of his arm, then swung outwards at his attacker, sending him—whoever 'him' was—flying through the air.

"Xetil!" a voice cried out in horror.

_A girl,_ Slogras realized blankly. Blind lust filled him, and he threw his gaze about frantically, searching for the owner of that voice. It rested on a young girl, petite, pretty... Ripe for his taking.

Rylaira was out of commission; she wasn't going anywhere. He'd claim her later. For now…

Slogras got to his feet and made his way over to the girl, who had rushed to Xetil's side to tend to him. The Pronteran knight had been knocked unconscious by the backhand strike, it seemed.

Once again, not that Slogras cared.

He reached down and snatched the girl off the ground, one-handed, his hand around her throat.

Choking, the girl kicked at him frantically, but to no avail. He thrust her backwards into the wall, twice. Thrice. And then he dropped her on the ground, where she rolled over to face up, whimpering in agony.

Slogras straddled the girl, ravelling in the power he had over her; her squirming did little to loosen his hold over her. He raised his hands in preparation to rake her clothes to shreds—and then felt a sharp pain in his ribs.

Slogras looked down to find that the girl had managed to free one arm, and had thrust a katar into his midsection. Grunting irritably, he pressed down on the shoulder of the hand clasping the katar with his right hand, and with his left, he grabbed her upper arm and wrenched it upwards.

A sharp crack sounded, and the girl screamed. Slogras snickered with glee, and then reached for her collar. She whimpered, shaking her head frantically.

"P-please… Don't…!"

Slogras licked his lips. Oh, was he was going to enjoy…

Slogras froze, feeling something penetrate through his body from behind.

_Huh?_

A cold, icy feeling began to grow from where he had been impaled. The coolness of hardened steel.

_No, this cannot be… Why…? Why did you have to be so slow? Why…?_

The voice in his head became fainter for some reason. Slogras no longer had the logic to question such things. He merely tilted his head, puzzled at the fact. And puzzled at the pain in his chest.

The tip of a sword emerged from his chest, and Slogras looked at it inquisitively, the way a child would an unknown object. And then he felt a certain weightlessness, as if gravity ceased to work.

He began to float. Above the girl. Above the ground.

He didn't know what was going on. But an emptiness took over, and the world suddenly elongated before his eyes as they drooped close.

/

Valyon tossed Slogras in a weight-ignorant manner off his weapon with a swish, as if flinging blood from the blade, and paid no heed to Slogras' corpse striking the ground behind him. He never really was fond of the brutish captain to begin with.

Valyon sheathed his weapon and surveyed the scene before him. The area of the cave they were in was relatively less dark than most of the other areas. Or maybe he'd spent enough time in the mines already that he was used to it.

"What a mess," he remarked. There was no feeling in his voice—no tone whatsoever. From somewhere further to the side of the passage, Lune rushed over to Xetil, shaking him back to consciousness, and Aelyon ran up to the girl Slogras had last attacked, examining her shoulder.

"Dislocated… Looks like there's some muscle tear as well," Aelyon said softly. But Valyon paid no attention to him. He walked past him, towards an unconscious Tyferia. Crouching next to the Yunoan quietly, he placed his hand against the man's chest, closing his eyes and concentrating.

"… Ah," Valyon murmured, opening his eyes, "so that _was_ you, then?"

Glancing down, Valyon noticed Tyferia's sword and picked it up, examining its ruined edge. Shaking his head, Valyon examined Tyferia's face with what seemed like renewed respect.

"You certainly _are_ a remarkable warrior, aren't you," Valyon commented. A quiet, haggard breathing alerted him to another presence on the ground nearby, and Valyon turned to see Rylaira. From what he could make out of her in the dimness, her dress had been reduced to… well, what seemed like a badly designed short dress ending in a miniskirt that was, to say the least, close to non-existent.

Valyon moved over to her and crouched beside her, reaching beneath her head to support her in an inclined position. Her face was swollen in various places, most noticeably, around her lips, and her lips themselves.

"Is… he alright…?"

"No. Slogras is dead," Valyon replied dryly.

"That is unfortunate," she said, managing a small smile with those swollen lips, "but I meant… N-not Slogras…"

"Song-Blade?" Valyon supplied questioningly. He glanced at Tyferia, and then nodded, "He's just unconscious."

Rylaira managed a smile.

"… Thank God…"

She fainted; went limp, and Valyon sighed.

"I didn't think either of you would be godly people," he remarked, "but… 'God', huh? Which one, I wonder…"

He lowered her back to the ground and stood up, shaking his head. He couldn't be sure, but if a particular god existed, he'd certainly like to face that entity and cut it to shreds.

It certainly did a good job of cutting human lives that way.

/

**Glossary**

_Signature Traces_

Signature traces are wavelengths that exist in magical manifestations. These wavelengths vary from person to person, and is unaffected by any variables in such manifestations, be it magic spells, energy infusion, healing and the sort.

As signature traces are unique to each person, it is often referred to as a magical fingerprint. Investigation of crimes committed via aid of magic often involve reading remnants of magical aura for signature traces.

Signature traces are _always_ present in magical manifestations, although various techniques exist which could hide them from detection or examination.

Studies conducted by the University of Yuno have shown that humans, monsters, demons and other races all produce significantly different signature traces.

A person's signature trace can be read by a person skilled in signature tracing through direct contact and some measure of focus.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Whew, done. Gosh, uncomfortable chapter to write, especially that part with Lune and Aelyon, and Slogras' treatment of Rylaira.

No, trust me, _seriously_. It's uncomfortable to write such things. These things aren't to say the least, comforting. I'm actually quite glad that there wouldn't be too many of such scenes anymore, since most of these were due to the Succubus' influence.

Yeah, I'm also aware that Aelyon's sudden advance was abrupt, but the Succubus was getting desperate, so she was kind of taking the fastest route.

Oh, yeah, also, I guess it'll be good to add this here. Aelyon wasn't controlled the same way as Slogras. The Succubus forcefully and actively manipulated his body. This _still_ allows her to possess Lune if she had succeeded in getting Aelyon to… well, yeah.

Anyway, so her power over Aelyon diminished as soon as Valyon killed her. However, her death made her consciousness manifest itself in Slogras, as one's consciousness manifests itself where the majority of its substance dwells.

As such, as the Succubus lost her main body, her consciousness transferred itself to her power within Slogras, which was embedded in him through their kiss in the earlier chapter. Yup, so it's cleared up, right?

Also, this chapter was meant to kind of establish that Tyferia is very much human despite his power... though of course, Rune Midgard's standards of human powers are quite different from ours, but either way…

If you think an author who explains everything in his notes makes him bad, because stories should be self-explanatory, then seriously, just read my story and ignore my notes. It'll just be a bit harder to figure out that way… But trust me: it _can_ be standalone.

Wow, that's a lot of author's notes. Ha-ha, okay, on to the reviewers. Oh, it's 'reviewer'. Singular. Oh well, that's fine, too, after the long break.

**Ai:** Yeah, been ages since I was here too, huh? Hmm… Action scenes are all fine and cool, and writing them well can be a challenge. But what really matters is their placement in the story. I've seen many stories where it's just action scene after action scene… and it gives me the same feeling as watching Bleach does, where I go, "Right, so this whole fight… really could've been concluded in two episodes rather than eight," and it just feels _so_ elongated and useless. Anyway, angst and emotional stuff have their places in stories as well. And I'll be honest, but this story is probably gonna have more of _that_ than action scenes, because… well, my characters don't really fight for no reason, y'know? Well, not _all_ of them… Nah, it's just that those scenes really tell a story better than fight scenes sometimes. They both have their places. And thanks for checking in, ha-ha. No, really, I believe you did!

So, that concludes this round. More reviewers would be welcomed, really, but that's all cool, so… I'll see about getting another up soon!

This chapter was written in a single day. The things I can do when I'm free during holidays…

_Signing off,_

Zemiah Dyterra


	15. Chapter 14

_**Chapter 14  
**_

Nyshea sighed with satisfaction as the man before her fell to his knees, his face contorted with agony. _Serves him right for attempting to make advances on me,_ she thought grimly as she watched him enter his death throes.

The man had been making advances ever since he'd first laid eyes on her three days earlier during a meeting between several ninja clan heads.

He was the son of Lord Katsuma, the head of the current leading ninja clan. Apparently, he thought that that status justified his advances, despite the fact that Nyshea was, by status, more powerful than he was, as she was a clan head herself.

In any case, she had given him enough time to catch on to the fact that she wasn't interested, though he had failed to do so dismally. His reward was exactly what he had wanted.

A kiss—of death.

She licked her lips as she shook her head gleefully, maintaining eye contact with her victim as he keeled over sideways, jerking periodically from the pain he was experiencing. It was a simple little trick, that kiss of death. All she had done was engage him in a mock-hungry lip-lock, during which she had pretended to be aroused enough to bite his lower lip so hard it bled.

Of course, that was just the entry point for her poison. She'd sprinkled a bit of poison powder on her lips before inviting him into her room, after all, knowing he wouldn't resist kissing her the least bit.

Nyshea contemplated finding a way to further toy with the dying man. Of course, she intended to put him out of his misery either way, but she was always open to having a little _fun._

Even as she did so, however, a black mass dropped from the rafters above her, unfolding itself to reveal a tall, slim woman. She was dressed in a sleeveless, legless ninja suit, cut low at the chest, which generously showed off her chest, arms and thighs.

Nyshea caught a glimpse of the Crimson Lotus emblem—her clan symbol—tattooed on the woman's chest, just high enough so her garbs would not shield it from view, a moment before the woman's cape fell to cover her somewhat immodest dressing.

Not that Nyshea cared. She too, used to wear the same uniform, after all.

"Lady Nyshea," the woman addressed her quietly, paying the dying man on the ground no heed. "Our sister, Tsuchira Rie, has been felled by sword."

Nyshea frowned.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Well, no matter," Nyshea said nonchalantly, turning back to her victim. "I never really expected her to beat the renowned Song-Blade, anyway…"

"Y-you sent Rie out on a mission expecting her to get killed?" the kunoichi exclaimed, her voice lined with horror.

Nyshea's eyes narrowed dangerously, and she turned back to the messenger slowly.

"You question me?"

"W-what…? M-my Lady Nyshea, I don't…"

A violent cracking sound cut the messenger off; Nyshea's foot had landed heavily on the dying man's neck. He went motionless an instant later.

Lifting her foot off the corpse slowly, Nyshea commanded the messenger, "Take off your cape."

The messenger gulped and slowly stood to do as Nyshea ordered. Unclasping the brooch at her neck, she allowed her cape to fall to the ground.

Nyshea smiled and sauntered over to the messenger, and then reached around the taller woman's waist to grasp the hilt of her _kodachi_, drawing it from its sheath. She held it up in the air horizontally before the horrified kunoichi.

"Y-you want me to commit _Seppuku_…?" she stammered.

"Why, no," Nyshea replied, laughing airily. "I'm just going to punish you for your audacity. It's not nice to speak to your leader that way, you know?"

Without another word, Nyshea reached over the messenger's shoulder and grabbed the woman's ponytail, pulling it downwards sharply.

The kunoichi shrieked from the pain and fell to her knees, where she stared up at Nyshea fearfully. Nyshea knew the poor woman thought she was going to share the same fate as Nyshea's last victim. But of course, she really had something else in mind.

"P-please… I apologize, my lady…"

"Be silent," Nyshea hissed. She released the woman's ponytail, and then knelt down so they were level with each other. Then, slowly, she slid the left side strap of the woman's suit off her shoulder, raised the _kodachi_ and pressed its tip lightly against the top of the Crimson Lotus tattoo on the woman's chest.

"You will do well to remember the reason," Nyshea whispered icily, "why you, of all our sisters, are soon to be bestowed the honour of having our clan symbol _redrawn_ on you, by _my_ hand."

Nyshea's smile grew as the woman before her begun to scream.

/

"There's the exit. Aldebaron's just outside, across the suspension bridge there."

Lune sighed with relief as she caught a glimpse of sunlight hit her eyes. Ahead of her, Valyon, who was leading the group whilst supporting Tyferia, who had only just recently regained consciousness, continued to move forward toward the light.

Ever since the short fight with Slogras, Lune had begun to look at Valyon with renewed respect. Despite his slender built, he had easily lifted Slogras off the ground by his blade, and before that, he had moved about without the Succubus detecting his presence. It spoke volumes of his efficiency and ability, and Lune felt he had every right to be held in high esteem.

And now, he had led them out of the Mines. She had to hand it to him; he really was good.

Beside her, Rylaira let out a tired sigh, and Lune quickly bent to rebalance the two of them as she felt Rylaira's arm slip from around her shoulders.

"Hold on, Rylaira, we're almost there," Lune said encouragingly. Rylaira nodded weakly, and whispered her thanks to Lune quietly as the scout repositioned her arm about her shoulders.

_Rylaira's ordeal must've been terrible, _Lune thought. Now heavily wrapped in Lune's spare cloak _and_ Valyon's cape, no one had actually gotten a good look at the condition of her clothes. No one except Lune, of course, who had been the one to tend to her and cover her up.

While clothing Rylaira in her spare cloak, Lune had caught glimpses of her torn dress from beneath the light of Aelyon's makeshift torch—his sword, which was burning from a modified Magnum Break, which he had been happy to leave ignited throughout the journey out of the Mines.

Rylaira's clothes had been reduced to something close to stray pieces of fabric, and Lune had noticed that even her undergarments weren't spared. They still covered enough of her, and they still clung to her body, but they were tattered as well. Half clawed off by that beast, Slogras.

Lune shuddered at the thought, remembering how Aelyon had attacked her while momentarily under the Succubus' influence. It frightened her enough. But what Rylaira went through…

"Hey."

Lune jerked out of her thoughts and turned to see Aelyon, who had stepped up beside her.

"W-what?"

"You need help? I can support Rylaira for awhile if you're tired."

"N-no, not in her state," Lune said hurriedly. "She… uh, needs a gentle touch."

"I can be gentle," Aelyon replied wryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Gentle as in a _girl's_ touch," Lune hissed irritably. She couldn't let him hold Rylaira, knowing just how little clothes there were under the makeshift coverings. What if he took a little peek and saw…?

_Well, then Tyferia would slice his head off when he finds out,_ Lune thought grimly. She might just about enjoy that, but in any case, Lune couldn't stand the thought of Rylaira being violated any further.

"So much for gentle," Aelyon remarked at her tone. But he shrugged and increased his pace to catch up with his brother.

Lune watched him go, and then glanced behind to see Xetil with that mystery girl in his arms, bridal style. She wasn't unconscious, but her shoulder had just been relocated, and she was still in shock from her traumatic encounter with Slogras in the Mines.

Naturally, she wasn't able to walk at all. She had barely even responded to any attempts to communicate with her. The only person she had reacted to was Xetil—and that was with just her eyes, turning to look at him whenever he spoke her name.

_Theta, was it?_

But in any case, something about the way Xetil carried her made Lune uneasy, even jealous.

The thought would've made Lune recoil on a normal day, but perhaps it was different this time because it felt like she had an actual reason to be jealous. Xetil was holding another girl in his arms—with _that_ look on his face.

That gentle, determined look that said, _don't worry, I'm here and I'm gonna get you out of all this._

And that look on a face as handsome as Xetil's just made Lune feel like she ought to have played along with Xetil's playful flirting in the past.

_Xilos…_

The name struck her mind, and she felt the longing begin to seep away. Xetil was just Xetil; he wasn't going to get any better than that. And the way he was just wasn't enough for someone like her. She deserved better.

But a small bit of longing remained. After all, since Xilos vanished, who else was there but Xetil?

_Just a bit more to Aldebaron… and then maybe I could sort things out there…_

/

"Here, Aelyon, give this to Tyferia when he's rested up."

Aelyon nodded blankly. He had hoped Lune would warm up to him ever since that episode in the Mines. After all, he _had_ protected her all that time.

He had thought perhaps the Succubus taking a hold of him and making him attack her had been the cause of her could attitude towards him, but, thinking back, she'd been cold to him all along.

Just _what_ was it that made her hate him so much?

"Aelyon!"

Startled, Aelyon looked up.

"Brother! I'm sorry, I…"

Valyon cut him off by thrusting a sheathed sword against his chest. Caught off-guard, Aelyon fumbled with the weapon, barely managing to catch it.

They were in an alley behind an inn located in Aldebaron. The inn was their first stop in Aldebaron, and as soon as they'd rented enough rooms for everyone, Valyon had the rest of the party settled down and dragged Aelyon out to where they currently stood.

Aelyon had thought Valyon was going to berate him about whatever mistakes he might've made during the episode in the Mines, but apparently, it was just about Tyferia's new weapon.

"Give that weapon to Tyferia," Valyon said again, "His sword was of good quality, but I doubt it'll cut well anymore."

Aelyon nodded and suppressed a sigh. Heck, in any case, his brother was treating him coldly. But that's old news. Valyon had never been anything less than condescending towards him.

Aelyon looked down at the sword in his hands. It was a modified Zweihandler, sporting a blade almost four feet long and a foot long handle to go with it. The blade was straight and single edged, sporting a dull edge along its spine, and, despite its length and size, it was rather light.

"I couldn't quite judge what kind of sword Tyferia really uses, so I gave it my best guess," Valyon said wryly as Aelyon stared at the weapon.

Aelyon looked up.

"What kind of sword?" he echoed. "Isn't that obvious? He's been using a katana all this while, hasn't he?"

Valyon sighed and shook his head.

"This is why I said you need more experience. Can't you tell that he's not been fighting with his true style? He's hiding it from everyone, including us. In any case, I believe this weapon might serve him better than that katana."

Aelyon blinked. He did not quite know how Valyon had deduced such a thing, but either way, Valyon had a knack for spotting such things, so… it had to be true.

Valyon shrugged and said, "So, I'll be returning to the 9th Cavalry now. But before I go, I need you to be vigilant about some things."

Aelyon snapped to attention immediately. Valyon had never entrusted him with any tasks. Perhaps he now trusted Aelyon to be capable of a couple of them! Or at least, Aelyon hoped so. Not that Valyon would tell him.

"Listen well," Valyon begun sternly, "Just as I said, Tyferia is hiding his true combat style from us. But I believe there's more to it than just that, so keep a good eye on him—and Rylaira, too. We don't really know who they are, and it looks like it'll stay that way, so keep watch."

"Got it," Aelyon said confidently.

"And also, that girl that Xetil brought out of the Mines… Xetil said she's from the 9th Cavalry. What do you think?"

Aelyon frowned.

"What do I think? Well, I'm not sure, but… I've never seen her before."

"Good," Valyon said approvingly, "keep thinking that way. Because that's right. She's _not_ one of us."

"What does this mean?" Aelyon asked seriously.

"She may be a spy of some sort," Valyon replied. "I'm not sure who she's with—she could be a member of _Libertas_, or maybe she's from another section of the Pronteran military, but she might be from a third party, too. So be wary."

"Okay."

"One last thing," Valyon said quickly. "This mission… The only thing we know is that they're headed to Lighthalzen. I cannot be sure why, but be careful. I want to know everything about it when we next meet. Whatever you can find out, understood?"

"Yes, Brother."

"Good," Valyon said, satisfied. "Be quiet about whatever I just told you here. Send my regards to the rest."

With that, he simply turned and walked toward the street. Aelyon contemplated saying goodbye, but decided against it and re-entered the inn.

As Aelyon made his way to the second floor, he thought about the girl Xetil had carried out of the mines. She had not been wearing a Pronteran uniform, that was for sure, but she did not seem to be wearing a _Libertas_ uniform, either.

But still, what purpose could a third party organisation have for sending a lightly armed girl onto the site of battle between two large forces? It didn't make sense.

"Yuichi!"

Aelyon yelped as someone shouldered past him roughly, and looked up to see a petite woman skipping down the hallway towards a pair of individuals standing by a window.

As Aelyon watched, the woman threw her arms around one of them in a manner none too gentle. The young man let out a shriek and tried to pull away, sporting a relatively traumatized expression, and beside him, his companion rolled her eyes in exasperation.

Aelyon felt irritation well up inside him, and, directing a glare at the woman who'd pushed past him, he snarled, "Hey, watch where you're going, hag! I'm not invisible!"

The woman loosened her grip around the young man—Aelyon couldn't help but think of the poor guy as her victim—to turn and look at him with an innocent, questioning look.

"Huh? I thought I brushed against something," she said slowly, "but… I didn't think there actually _was_ someone there…"

Aelyon wasn't sure why, but something about the woman's words ticked him off.

And now that he had a large, brand new sword in his hands, he felt quite the murderous urge to _do_ something with it.

/

**Author's Notes:**

How long has it been since—ahem, hello again! Uh, been awhile, hasn't it? Ha-ha, I'm done with school now, so… Could get back to writing, but I'm not sure how often I can manage it…

I really wanna keep this story going, though, and I was really kind of disappointed when I realized this story's over two years old and I only got it so far up until now. But yeah… Anyway, I'll write when I can… I really hope to finish a story, at least!

I won't give second-rate work, though, so yeah. Sometimes I get writer's blocks and I just… really can't get around it, so… well, if you've written anything before, you know the drill. So yeah.

**Ai:** You ready for _another_ marathon? Ha-ha, yeah, the in-between scenes are usually where you get the humour and personality, either way. And I like compliments—who doesn't? As long as it's true, ha-ha! Oh, hey, recognise the new character at the end? Don't say who it is in the review, but you can just tell me if you do!

Yeah, let's get down to more soon, huh?

_Signing off,_

- Zemiah Dyterra.


	16. Chapter 15

**_Chapter 15_**

Tyferia heaved a quiet sigh as he stared down at his withered katana. It had served him well thus far. But it was beyond repair. The blade had broken two inches beneath its tip, and the katana's edge sported tiny fissures that threatened the integrity of the blade.

The blade was ready to shatter.

Tyferia shrugged. At the very least, this katana wasn't really his weapon of choice. But its two years of service had earned it some measure of sentimental value.

"I felt him in the cave."

Tyferia's attention shifted from the battered blade at to the sound of the voice, and he turned his gaze to Rylaira.

"You're awake…"

Rylaira smiled. Now dressed in a simple, loose-fitting gown, she was resting on the sole bed in the room. The swells on her face had drastically shrunk from potion treatment. However, small cuts still showed here and there, especially on her lips.

"How are you feeling?" Tyferia asked gently, reaching out to stroke her face. Rylaira's eyelids fluttered appreciatively at his tender touch, and she reached up with one hand to grasp his wrist.

"I felt him," she said again, paying no heed to his question. Tyferia tilted his head questioningly. Squeezing her companion's hand gently, Rylaira continued, "I felt Zemiah in the Mines."

Tyferia winced at the name, and turned his gaze away. Rylaira's smile faltered, as did her grip, in response to Tyferia's gesture.

"What's wrong?"

"Zemiah is dead," came the quiet reply, "and he must not return. He mustn't."

Rylaira's eyes filled with sorrow at Tyferia's words, but after a moment, she nodded slowly.

"You're right. He mustn't."

/

Racélia's sword clashed sharply with the stranger's Zweihandler. She felt her arms strain from resisting the heavy attack—which had been dealt with a relatively heavy weapon, too—and quickly stepped to the side, diverting the attack away rather than meeting it head-on.

_An attack deflected need not recover its momentum, but an attack left to hit air needs strength to withdraw._

Racélia gave a mental nod to the philosophy, which quietly surfaced in her mind. _Yes, Zemiah,_ she acknowledged it, _I remember_.

True to the nature of that lesson, the stranger staggered forward with his momentum as Racélia stepped to the side, and she lashed out at him with her blade. But in an impressive display of agility, the swordsman dived forward past her, right over her blade, and landed with a shoulder roll.

Racélia spun about to meet him—and three swords tangled with each other in the air before her.

"Enough! Stop!"

Racélia's eyes widened with surprise. Her blade, along with her opponent's, had been intercepted by the sword of a young man with startling red hair and piercing green eyes.

"Xetil!" her opponent exclaimed.

The three withdrew their blades slowly as emotions died down, and the newcomer turned incredulously towards Racélia's opponent.

"Aelyon, what the hell are you doing?" he hissed, thrusting his palm against Racélia's opponent's shoulder in a reprimanding fashion. "This place—we're in an inn, by Odin! If you have quarrels with someone, at least take it outside!"

"Gladly," Racélia interjected wryly, returning her blade to its scabbard. Her opponent glared at her for a moment, then, sheathing his weapon curtly, turned his gaze on the newcomer defiantly.

"Shut up, Fades. You wouldn't understand."

The newcomer—Fades—folded his arms in a disgruntled fashion.

"Sure, I would. If you'd explain."

"No, you wouldn't! You didn't experience having your body turned against you in the Mines, did you? You didn't… you didn't find yourself trying to assault someone you care for, did you? No!" the swordsman snarled, waving his free hand about in agitation. "No, you were… you were off playing hero to some girl whose name you didn't even know!"

Fades looked taken aback for a moment, but his composure returned, and his brows furrowed as he put on a frown.

"Aelyon… What happened?"

Aelyon remained quiet for a long moment as he apparently sought to compose himself. Finally, he grunted, "Nothing," and stormed past Fades hotly.

"Charming," Racélia muttered, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry," Fades replied with a sigh, "We just had a bad episode. I'm sure he didn't mean to be so… hostile."

Fades paused, and then, with a start, as if he suddenly realised who he was talking to, he turned and flashed Racélia a small smile.

"I'm Xetil, by the way."

"Racélia," Racélia replied, shaking his hand. She felt a smile tug at her lips, but she quickly forced it down. Gesturing nonchalantly at Yuichi, she added, "That's Yuichi, my… well, he calls himself my guardian of sorts. He's really just a nuisance, really…"

"Yuichi is _not_ a nuisance!"

Racélia stiffened at the sharp voice and turned about to face the young woman who—for the past five minutes already—was latched on to Yuichi's arm. She glared indignantly at Racélia, her lips pursed in a pout.

"… Actually, he is," Racélia replied stubbornly. "And yet other nuisances he attracts, too."

The woman's cheeks seemed to enlarge in response to Racélia's mockery—but her expression abruptly became one of absolute adoration as Yuichi spoke.

"Uh… C-Curione?"

"Yes, darling?" the woman replied in a voice so sweet it made Racélia shudder.

"My arm's going numb."

"Oh!" Curione exclaimed, reaching across Yuichi's torso to grasp his free hand. "Well, that's fine! Here, let me see…"

"By sun and moon, how _stupid_ are you?" Racélia hissed with a scowl. She strode over to the two and swatted Curione's hand away from Yuichi's impatiently. "He meant the arm you're constricting, you python!"

Curione released Yuichi with a yelp, as if jolted by lightning. Huffing indignantly at Racélia's harshness, she said shrilly, "Well, of course he did. I knew it well."

Racélia was about to retort when Xetil burst out laughing from behind her.

"Well, you three really are quite the group. Where are you from, and where are you going?"

Racélia folded her arms across her chest.

"Why do you care?"

Xetil shrugged.

"I'm just wondering."

"We're looking for someone," Yuichi piped in. Racélia shot him a warning glare, to which he shrugged and waved his hands defensively.

"Looking for someone?" Xetil echoed, apparently not noticing the look Racélia had shot Yuichi.

"It's none of your business," Racélia butted in. "Besides, it's not like you would know him."

"Well, for all you know, I might," Xetil suggested with an easy laugh. "It's a rather small world."

"Yeah, well," Racélia retorted, "it certainly isn't small enough. I'm leaving, Yuichi. Don't follow if the klutz wants to come along."

She stalked past a bemused Xetil, paying no heed to Yuichi's protests—and a string of colourful exclamations from Curione—and went straight for the stairwell.

As she descended the first flight of stairs, she observed—in a most off-handed fashion—a young man stepping to the side to let her pass. She paid him little heed and continued on.

"… You shouldn't have come, Little Sister…"

She froze instantly and spun around, and her eyes took in an empty stairwell. She took a few steps back up the stairs, hoping against hope to find some trace of the phantom that had stepped aside for her, but found nothing.

"Zemmie," she whispered beneath her breath, "where _are_ you?"

/

Lune thanked the vendor politely as the elderly woman handed her a bag filled with vials, each of which filled with a thick, coloured viscous liquid. She glanced at her bandaged shoulder and arm with a sigh and made her way back towards the inn.

The fact that she had been less than helpful in the mission so far had, in no way, gone unnoticed by her. She understood that archers had little importance or advantage against singular, powerful weapon wielding enemies such as the Baphomet, Wanderers—or any human being with a higher-than-normal capacity for deflecting projectiles. However, there had been instances where archers had emerged victorious against such opponents—even one on one.

It was not so much so that she had a self-esteem issue, but she just wished she was a bit more _valuable_. In fact, the very reason why she was currently out shopping was that she wanted to feel _useful_.

_Heck, even Aelyon's more useful, that jerk,_ she thought to herself bitterly. She'd never admit it to his face, but he had fought well enough to protect her.

Everyone seemed to have some form of motivation for fighting. Tyferia's reasons were obvious, for instance: he was there to protect Rylaira. And the two obviously had some relation to the mission. Aelyon was fighting to prove himself to his brother.

_Yeah, I know it, jerk,_ she sneered at the image of him her memory conjured in her head. _At your age, and you're still trying to prove your worth to Big Bro. Pathetic._

Her sneer softened as Aelyon's image melted away to reveal Xetil's face.

What was Xetil fighting for? The same thing as her, probably. He had a mission to complete. But now… It was more than just a mission. There was that girl, Tyétha. Even earlier, when Lune had tried to talk to Xetil to ask if he was in need of any particular supplies, he had answered in regards to Tyétha.

Diluted red potions for her to drink, to quicken her internal injuries' recovery—like her recently relocated shoulder. He hadn't even paused to talk to Lune after; he just made his way over to the well, drew out a bucket of water, and soaked a sponge in it. He then returned to his room without another word, probably to tend to Tyétha further.

_What _is_ their relationship, anyway,_ Lune questioned in her head as she pushed upon the inn's gate to step onto its front yard.

_Hadn't they just met? And they're already sharing a room!_

But of course, Xetil would probably say it was his responsibility to look after and protect her day and night. He'd always been that kind of guy.

Lune pushed open the inn door and stopped dead in her tracks. There, seated at the bar alone, was Aelyon, sipping moodily at a glass of wine. Lune started for the stairwell that led to her room, and then hesitated. She glanced at Aelyon once again and watched him take another sip. He looked so lonely, all alone…

_Alone… Like I am, now._

She walked over to the bar slowly, quietly, and, placing the bag of vials on the ground, she took a seat in the chair next to Aelyon. Aelyon nodded solemnly to acknowledge her presence and continued sipping at his wine.

_At least he isn't making advances,_ Lune thought darkly. She called for a glass of red wine and sipped at it tentatively, not quite sure how to break the silence between Aelyon and herself. Heck, she wasn't even sure she wanted to.

"Sad, huh?" Aelyon murmured, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Sad, how?" Lune asked curtly, not quite managing to sound less rude than she usually sounded when addressing him.

"You ever feel like you're a total failure? As if everything you thought you knew how to do was thrown right back in your face, having been labelled 'incompetent', or 'insufficient', or something-or-another?"

Lune emptied her glass. Called for a refill.

"… Maybe. Bet you feel that way a lot."

"Way lot."

"Should come as normal for you. You really _are_ kind of useless," Lune replied haughtily. Aelyon flinched visibly at the statement, however, and the first tinges of guilt crept into Lune's heart.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to… y'know?"

Aelyon remained quiet for a long moment, and then set his glass down on the table. His face slightly red from the alcohol, he turned to her to establish eye contact for the first time that conversation.

"I'd think you're feeling a bit of a failure yourself, seeing as you're taking to underage drinking."

Lune flushed hotly—a combination of her indignity and the alcohol, both.

"Shut up. I'll be eighteen in two weeks."

"You're still underage, though," he remarked

"I'm all adult, alright?" Lune hissed back at him. "Every bit."

Aelyon's eyes wandered downwards for a moment, then returned to her face.

"… Yeah, sure are."

Lune wasn't sure if it was the effects of the alcohol, but she didn't stop him. He raised his hand, held her chin between his forefinger and thumb, and raised her face slightly.

She closed her eyes as she felt his lips press against hers, seemingly releasing a group of very excitable butterflies in her stomach.

_Just like that,_ she thought blankly. _My… first kiss._

/

**Author's Notes**

Well… Hello again. I will admit that I have long contemplated continuing or stopping this story. Past year and a half, and a little more has found me serving a compulsory military term in my country, and has taken a lot of my time off.

But I guess I really took that much pride in this story, so… Never could delete it, or stop it. But I couldn't really find the time to actually sit down and think how to write another 'filler' chapter.

But what the heck, my last update was over two years ago… Recent reviews did draw my attention back on the story, though, so… I'm gonna give a shot at renewing my vigour. With some diligence, I may just be able to update more regularly.

So, on to the reviewers, before the rest—but, thank you to everyone who reviewed, really! Each of them would have thrown me onto the computer seat to write the chapter, but checking my emails have always been a come-check-and-go thing, so yeah.

Right, reviewers:

**Ai: **Welcome to my story. Not sure if you're still up-to-date with all of these stories, or if you're still writing yourself, but… Yeah. Your character lives on! Hmm, epic clashes will happen, no worries. Just you wait and see.

**Yuichi: **Ah… no worries. I guess if you come back you'll have to re-read again… But you live on as well. Heh. Valyon? Yeah, he's a piece of work, right? Yup. _My_ work.

**Sgt. NoOb:** Oh, hello! Yes, we did talk a little about this, didn't we? Well, here's the continuation. You have every means of contacting me, so give me a kick if I go stagnant again, won't you?

**Nom de Plume: **Uh… I'm a guy. Anyway. Thank you very much for your review. It was a huge encouragement. It came at the right time, too. My schedule cleared for unforeseen reasons, and, while taking a bit of time to figure what to do, lo and behold, I received this email bearing your review. I must admit that this really injected the much-needed determination to get this story moving again. Hmm, I thank you for expressing your appreciation of the story so enthusiastically. I'm more or less a spontaneous artist; I like to laze back and imagine scenes and events as they come along rather than go into lengthy planning. It keeps the story flowing more naturally, if I may say so, though it requires a good deal of hindsight to cover any loopholes or contradictions. I understand your fears for the growing cast. However, my story requires a large cast to be introduced. I take no pains to hide the fact that this is owing to the fact that many characters will face death or elimination by other means. As the story progresses, the attention _will_ bottleneck to the more pivotal characters. However, unless minor characters, with their 'side-quests', are given some screen time, one can hardly understand the little motivations that give realism to the main characters' emotions and actions. Care is also taken to form attachments and affection between readers and even minor characters so the impact of loss (if whichever character in question is so fated) can be conveyed more powerfully. If Aerith of Final Fantasy 7 had not been playable—and more than that, compulsory to play—I could not imagine that her death would make such an impact on the community, as well as enable people to relate to Cloud's emotions. My story will get darker, really. Tragic tales are often the most epic, aren't they? Ha-ha! Thanks again for reviewing. Gosh, you gave me much to speak about. I thank you!

Well, that's… that! Don't lie to me, I know I kind of blew half of you readers' minds with the ending. But… hey, story's still young. Don't form presumptions!

Signing off,

- _Zemiah Dyterra_


	17. Chapter 16

**_Chapter 16_**

Xetil pressed the sponge against Tyétha's forehead silently. The young girl's breath escaped her lips as the cold, wet item came in contact with her flushed face, and she shook her head weakly in protest.

"Shush," Xetil murmured, keeping the sponge on her forehead. The girl continued writhing uncomfortably for a moment, then, with some effort, calmed down and went still. She gazed weakly at Xetil and tried to speak, but her throat had, apparently, been damaged by Slogras' assault in the mines.

"It's okay, Tyétha," Xetil said reassuringly. "You'll be fine."

Tyétha raised her good hand to touch the sponge Xetil was holding, and, understanding her intentions, Xetil slowly released the sponge. Tyétha adjusted the sponge, then applied pressure.

Xetil smiled and pulled the covers higher up her neck, dimly aware that she was dressed merely in a simple dressing gown under the covers. Earlier, he had had one of the inn's servant girls tend to Tyétha and give her a change of clothes. The servant girl had, he remembered, handed over her katars to him uncertainly, obviously unused to seeing or handling such deadly weapons, even in a calm environment.

He chuckled at the memory just as a quiet knocking at the door, accompanied by the servant girl's voice, alerted him to her presence, and he rose to receive her. She handed over Tyétha's clothes, now washed and dried, to Xetil in a basket.

"Thanks," Xetil said, rewarding her with a smile. The young girl accepted his thanks with a bashful smile and made her way out of the room.

_Nice girl,_ Xetil thought. She'd make a fine lady when she reaches Lune's age, perhaps. Unlike that girl he had just met. What was her name? Racélia? She'd left earlier in an abrupt fashion, along with her two companions—despite her saying she wouldn't leave with one of them—and had gone through the door before the receptionist had the time to count the money she had tossed onto the his desk.

Racélia had, apparently, overpaid the rent by an amount which might have bought her an extra two nights there. Her conduct had been, overall, Xetil decided, quite unbecoming.

His string of thoughts came to a sudden stop as he gazed down at the clothes within the basket he held. Now free of grime, Tyétha's jacket lay at the top of the pile of clothes within the basket, ironed and folded in the neatest of fashions. And there, above the left breast pocket, Xetil's eyes rested upon an emblem sporting a pair of muskets crossed over a spear and shield.

The mark of the _Libertas_ guild.

/

Early the next morning, Lune found herself waiting in the corner of the inn's diner for the rest of the party. Save for the young servant girl, who was preparing for breakfast in the kitchen, she was, apparently, the only person out of her room so early.

She leaned back in her seat blankly and touched her lips in a most absent fashion, her mind straying back to her kiss with Aelyon. It had ended there, of course, with her excusing herself immediately after and returning to her room.

She hadn't even remembered to take the bag of potions up to Xetil.

Every fibre of her body regretted what she had done. Her first kiss—wasted on a man whom she didn't take to. Hated, even. Yet… that kiss was the most…

_Well, how do I put it,_ she wondered absently.

She snapped out of her thoughts as Tyferia and Rylaira descended the steps quietly and entered the diner. Rylaira looked much healthier now, if a little weak. Her ripped dress had been replaced with a new, form-fitting one. The skirt bore a slit on the left side, exposing the side of her leg up to her thigh.

High enough to be fashionable, but not quite high enough to be immodest.

With Tyferia's regal posture and Rylaira's majestic bearing, the two looked the most elegant of pairs—if, however, rather short. Tyferia, by Lune's reckoning, barely scraped one-seventy, and Rylaira was short enough that he could look over her head with ease. In fact, Xetil and Aelyon both towered over the Yunoan in terms of physique, both of them tall and broad, though neither of them commanded quite the same respect and authority he dd.

Lune's imagination quickly replaced the two with an image of her and Aelyon—and she defiantly shook the image out of her head. Impossible! She would _never_ accept the scoundrel.

With little more than a word and a nod of greeting, Rylaira and Tyferia took their seats opposite Lune. Lune watched as Tyferia leaned a shiny new katana with a silver hilt—complete with a silver scabbard—against the edge of the table.

"You… went out yesterday?" she asked.

"Briefly," the Yunoan replied. "I had little need for haste, yet there is little else of importance to acquire in the city."

Lune nodded, and for a moment, the table descended once more into silence. The silence was broken by Aelyon, who was the next down the steps. He was, grasping in one hand, a long, apparently custom-made, Zweihandler, in addition to his usual claymore, which he wore at his side, on his belt.

Lune stiffened as he approached, and strove to make as little eye contact with him as possible. She felt his eyes fix themselves on her searchingly, but, earning no response from her, he turned to Tyferia.

He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed to Lune to think the better of it when he saw Tyferia's new blade. Opting to remain silent, he rested the Zweihandler against the table and took a seat next to Lune.

"Good morning," he said, turning to Lune once more.

Lune ignored him. She pretended she was tired, and rested her forehead in her left palm, leaning away from him. The perfect image of one who had not noticed she was the intended recipient of a greeting.

"Hey…"

She felt Aelyon's hand on her forearm, and she snapped. Wringing her arm to ward off his hand, she hissed, "Look, yesterday meant _nothing_, understood?"

Aelyon stared at her.

"What?"

"Nothing happened between us. There is _nothing_ between us. Nothing ever _will_ be between us. Got it?"

Aelyon gave a rueful smirk and said, "Yeah, I intend to keep things that way. Meaning, the nothing being between us thing."

Lune's face contorted with fury.

"Look, you know that's not what I meant, alright? Don't you dare…"

She stopped short, realising that all that was happening in the presence of Rylaira, who was watching them with a most puzzled expression, and Tyferia, who was decidedly nonchalant.

"Keep your hands _off_ me."

That being said, Lune looked away firmly, refusing to face him. She tapped at the table impatiently for a moment, then, in agitation, her patience slipped away, and she huffed loudly.

"Where the _heck_ is Xetil?"

Right on cue, the knight—no, the _party leader_—descended the steps, and, drawing a chair up to the table, he took his seat.

"Sorry I'm late, guys. I, uh…" he paused, as if uncertain of what to say next, and looked in a somewhat helpless fashion to Tyferia.

Tyferia sighed.

"Time is of the essence in this mission, is it not?" he said. "Then if it be an issue of private fashions, let no discussion arise. Have you your map?"

"Y-yeah, here," Xetil said, producing a scroll and laying it out on the table. He placed his finger on it and began, "Here's where we are now: Aldebaron, the Clock Tower city." He dragged his finger along the map, to the west, and continued, "Here then, is our destination: Lighthalzen. According to what intelligence we have, we know that air travel between Yuno and Lighthalzen is currently not in operation, owing to _Libertas_ occupation in Einbroch. However, Einbroch is hostile territory. Therefore, I propose…" He dragged his finger along the map again, this time towards the northeast, "Our next stop should be here. Yuno. As per Lord Kadres' instructions."

"I agree," Aelyon said. "Yuno is friendly with Prontera. They will offer us lodging and supplies freely."

Tyferia shook his head.

"We avoid Yuno."

"Why?" Lune asked, surprised. "Didn't you two come from there?"

Rylaira cleared her throat demurely and said, "Tyferia and I may be Yunoan, but… the king's messengers didn't find us there."

"So then…" Lune begun.

"Our reasons for absence are our own," Tyferia cut in. "But we will avoid Yuno. It would not be prudent of us to extend our journey by taking such a detour. We head, rather, for Einbroch."

"Einbroch!" Aelyon exclaimed incredulously. "The city of curs and gold-diggers! The city of deserters and rebels! Do you intend for us to be robbed and killed?"

"_Libertas_ does not seek us," Tyferia replied, "And their eyes are not the means by which they tell friend from foe, for their side is not restricted to colour of skin, but ideals of mind. They know not our mission. They will not find us. We have merely need to choose the right garments to avoid their attention."

"It's a risky plan, but…" Lune glanced at Xetil.

"… Would it really be wise?" he asked, turning to Tyferia. "If we screw things up, we may be detained there a very long time. It would be useless to try to fight an entire city with just five of us."

"Five of us," Tyferia echoed. Lune could swear Xetil's face went a little pale, but he recovered quickly.

"Uh, I think… Tyétha may not be joining us."

Lune felt her heart begin to pound at Xetil's words.

"Why?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, Slogras' assault damaged her throat and all… she may be better off if she didn't come. It's safer for her to stay until she recovers."

"Is that your decree as party leader?" Tyferia asked with a raised eyebrow.

"… Yeah, it is."

Lune felt as if a burden had been lifted from her heart, and she let out a sigh. But Aelyon's brows furrowed, and he said, "But _Libertas_ members pass through Aldebaron every now and then; Prontera's forward lines have yet to reach here. If she were part of the Pronteran force before, leaving her here would be dangerous, too."

"She'll be safe!" Xetil exclaimed. "Trust me. I-I've talked to the innkeeper. He'll look after her until she's well enough to take care of herself."

"Well enough, then," Tyferia said. "We head for Einbroch at noon. Until then, dispose of what you have which bears the Pronteran emblem. Stealth is key."

/

Tyétha shifted in bed and slowly opened her eyes. Earlier that morning, Xetil had returned to the room, apparently after breakfast, and continued tending to her. She vaguely remembered his troubled expression, and had wanted to ask him about it.

But she'd never been mute before. How does one ask about such things without one's voice?

In any case, she figured she was problem thinking too much, anyway. She slowly lifted herself to a sitting posture, and, just as she had managed it, one of the inn's servant girls—the same one who had helped her change out of her bloodied clothes the previous day—entered the room with a tray of food.

"Good afternoon, Miss," she greeted Tyétha with a thick, Geffenian accent, "I do hope you're all fine. Here's your lunch—porridge with sweetened herbs and potatoes! It looks delicious, _oui_? I heard your throat had been hurting, so I thought, oh, should I not give you something a lil' more gentle? Then, _voila_!"

Tyétha chuckled at the young girl's enthusiasm and nodded her thanks. But as the girl gave a cute curtsy and turned to leave the room, Tyétha waved her hand to catch her attention and made a couple of gestures.

The girl stared as Tyétha tried her best to imitate Xetil's dabbing at her forehead with a sponge. After a moment, the girl's face lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically.

"Ah! You mean your friend, the good sir with red hair, _oui_? He left with his friends earlier this morning, Miss! Did he not tell you?"

Tyétha's smile faded. He had left her alone? She waved her hand to dismiss the servant girl, who skipped out of the room, humming merrily. Turning to the left and right, Tyétha searched for a letter or some other form of address which Xetil may have left for her, but she found none. Rather, her eyes came to rest upon a basket of laundry. _Her_ laundry. And her _Libertas_ jacket lay at the top of the pile of clothes within.

Realisation dawned on Tyétha's face. Her enemy had just spared her life.

/

**Author's Notes:**

Well then, next chapter up. Haven't received any reviews for the last chapter, but I guess that's what I get for leaving a story to collect dust for too long. But it's what I would call dusty treasure, I suppose. I want to believe readers and reviews will come anew. Or come back.

Not much to say this time around; it's just a continuity chapter, as demanded as necessary for every good story. They fill in the gaps to give the story life. And they add subtle implications and promptings to keep the story going.

Well, I hope it's enjoyable nonetheless. I'll endeavour to carry on with this story.

Signing off,

_-Zemiah Dyterra_


End file.
